


Details

by AngelDesaray



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Big Brother Markus, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Carl Manfred's Daughter OC, Conflict of Interests, Connor Needs to Hurry Up and Go Deviant, Death, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Fluff, Feisty Original Character, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Gentle Connor, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, Journalist Original Character, Language, Light Angst, Major Character Injury, Man Crush Hunts Deviants but Brother Is a Deviant, Markus is Pacifist but Cecilia's A Spitfire, Minor Character Death, Multi, Near Death Experiences, POV Connor, POV Original Character, POV Original Female Character, Pacifist Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Revolution, Pre-Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Protective Connor, Protective Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Romantic Fluff, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Connor/Original Character(s), Slow Burn Connor/Original Female Character(s), Smut, Software Instability, Software Instability Everywhere, This Girl Needs A Hug, This Girl's Had a Really Bad Day, Trauma, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-07 03:25:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15209837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelDesaray/pseuds/AngelDesaray
Summary: Cecilia’s life was already a little on the abnormal side–being the daughter of the famous painter Carl Manfred with a druggie brother and a profession as an independent journalist with her own radio channel.  She had enough excitement in her life as things were.  She didn’t need them to spiral out of control…or perhaps she did, and just didn’t know it.





	1. Family

**Author's Note:**

> This story started on Tumblr on my blog deviantconnorarmy, I've decided to slide it over here, too.

Classical music played softly throughout the first floor of the lavishly decorated house, one of its occupants asleep upstairs while the other was at worked cooking a breakfast for two in the kitchen.  She didn’t hear the music, though, because she’d chosen to listen to her own, headphones on and playing songs from roughly two decades ago while she cooked.

Cecilia didn’t have to cook–Markus was her father’s caretaker, but she wanted to help, and this way she could get breakfast ready while Markus went to pick up an order for Carl.  It was more efficient this way.

Once the eggs and bacon were finished, she dished them out onto two separate plates–the over easy eggs with the crisp bacon went on her father’s plate, covered to keep it hot until Markus returned, while Cecilia put the over hard eggs and still chewy bacon on her plate, waiting for the coffee to finish.  She was turning to pour the morning necessity in her father’s fancy silver tumbler and almost collided with a familiar figure in the process.  He was the one who prevented the crash, effortlessly reaching out and stopping her from running into him before coffee could end up everywhere.

Cecilia squeaked, turning off her music and removing her headphones so she could hear.  “Markus!  Don’t scare me like that!”

“I’m sorry, Ceci–I was about to try and get your attention,” Markus apologized, letting his hands drop away from her arms to take the tumbler out of her hands and set it safely on the counter.  “I wanted to tell you I’m back before I wake your father up.”

“All right, well, now I know.  I’ll go get all this set up while you go get him,” she said, gesturing towards the partially prepared breakfast tray.

“You don’t have to do that, I’ve got it,” Markus started to protest, but Cecilia waved him off.

“No, no, I’m capable of taking this to the table, you don’t have to do everything by yourself, Markus.  Go wake up Dad, I’ve got this covered.”

Markus gave her a small half-smile, like he’d expected her to tell him no but had asked anyway, turning to head back into the hall.  “All right, we’ll be down in a moment.”

The automatic door slid shut behind Markus, and Cecilia finished getting her father’s breakfast put onto the silver tray, taking it out to the dining room before returning to fetch her own food.  She could hear movement upstairs, and then voices coming closer as she brought her food into the dining room and sat across from where her father usually sat.  Her heels clacked against the floor, apparently announcing her presence since she distinctly heard her name spoken as Markus and her father approached the dining room.

She’d only been sitting down a few moments when her Markus reappeared pushing her father’s wheelchair into the room, the old man’s face being graced with a rare smile as his gaze settled on her.

“Cecilia–what a lovely surprise,” Carl said warmly.

“Hi, Dad,” she returned with a smile of her own.  “I thought I’d stop by this morning before heading to work, see you, help out a little.”

“And get a free meal, too, apparently,” Carl said pointedly as Markus wheeled him into view of the table.  Cecilia chuckled.

“That’s just an added bonus.  If I don’t eat here, I’m going to miss breakfast altogether.”

“Maybe you should get up a little earlier.”

“Says the man who gets up at ten in the morning.”

“I’m old enough to stay in bed as long as I please,” Carl stated, pausing to thank Markus for serving his food.  “You on the other hand, have a job to attend to.”

“I also have flexible hours.  It pays being an independent journalist.  I could have worked out of my apartment if I really wanted to.”

“You’re office at the Stratford Tower is a lot better than your apartment.”

Cecilia waved her fork at her father.  “And I’m going to stop you right there, Dad, cause I already told you, it’s what I can afford, and I’m not taking your money to upgrade to a house or something that I can’t afford yet.  I am a self-sustaining child, thank you.”

Carl chuckled softly under his breath, looking up at Markus, who was standing at ease next to him with hands clasped in front of him.  “Why don’t you find something to do while we finish our breakfast, Markus?”

“Okay, Carl,” Markus said pleasantly, disappearing behind Cecilia as he wandered deeper into the living room.

 _Piano or chess,_ Cecilia mouthed to her father, a silent bet.  Carl smirked.

 _Piano_ , he returned, and Cecilia cursed.  That was going to be her guess.  So much for that–she’d just keep her money.

Her father chuckled softly, and a few moments later they heard the music start to play through the room.  It wasn’t a regurgitated, to the letter classical piece–not that there was anything wrong with that, Markus played the piano magnificently and it was always a joy to listen to.  This time it was something…intimate.  That was the only word that Cecilia could find to describe it.  Something with deep emotion that was pulling her in.  As soon as she was finished she stood as quietly as possible, coming around the table to retrieve her father so they could both go over and listen to Markus play.

Carl stopped somewhere near the piano bench while Cecilia leaned on the grand piano, watching Markus’ fingers glide across the piano keys and simply…listening.

When the music finally came to its last note, Markus looked up at them, Cecilia recognizing a contemplative look on her father’s face.

“Something has changed in the way you play,” Carl noted.  “Sometimes I think you have more humanity than most humans.”

Cecilia’s eyebrows rose, a slight bob of her head showing her agreement.  Desensitization was real, and it was rampant in humanity from what she could see.

“One day I won’t be here to take care of you anymore.  You’ll have to protect yourself, and make your choices…decide who you are, and wanna become.  This world doesn’t like those who are different, Markus.  Don’t let anyone tell you who you should be.”

Cecilia stared down at the glossy surface of the piano.  She wanted to pipe up and say she would take care of Markus, but the truth was, she didn’t need an android.  If he came to live with her, he wouldn’t have anything to do, really.  She did most of her stuff herself, there wasn’t anyone that needed almost constant watching in her household because it was just fully functionate her.

But she also knew her father was getting older, and wouldn’t be around much longer.  And Markus…well, she didn’t exactly want to see him reset and shipped off somewhere strange, or worse decommissioned and thrown away. When it came to that…if she was being honest with herself, she’d probably end up taking in Markus anyway.  They’d figure something out.

After a few moments of the reflective silence the three of them had fallen into after her father’s words, Carl spoke up again.

“Let’s go to the studio.”

Markus rose from his seat at the piano, moving to steer Carl’s wheelchair while Cecilia walked ahead of them into the studio.  As she entered, all of the lights came on and the curtains drew back, revealing the gorgeous view of the gardens that her father’s art studio had.

She loved it out here, for the view if nothing else.

“Let’s see where we left off–remove the sheet!”  Carl commanded, falling into painter’s mode as Markus did as he was asked and revealed the giant, very blue painting her father was currently working on.  As Carl got to work continuing his project, Markus started to clean up the studio, Cecilia trying to make a move to help him.  She was quickly intercepted.

“No, you’ve got your work clothes on, I’ll clean up in here,” Markus told her patiently.

He had a point.  She didn’t want to accidentally get paint on her work clothes, she needed to look nice, being in media and everything.  So she relented in this instance, stepping back to watch her father put the finishing touches on his painting, then wandering over to his spot on the wall filled with sketches from when he was young and a few amateur drawings from his children.

Cecilia had not inherited her father’s painting skills–her talents lay in other areas.

Markus came to stand by her when he was done cleaning the studio, and she turned to give him a small smile that he returned.  it was then that she finally noticed the tear in his clothes, and a smudge of dirt and dust here and there that indicated he’d been on the ground.

“What happened there?” she asked with a frown, gently touching the rip in his clothes.

“Oh, there were protesters in the street.  It’s nothing, I’m fine,” Markus assured her, turning to head back towards Carl, though the move was partially to get her hand off of the affronted material.  Cecilia’s frown deepened.

“Assholes,” she muttered, reaching over to dust off the smudges.  She couldn’t do anything about the tear.  “Sometimes I really hate people,” she finished with the shake of her head.  Carl was coming back down from his painting by that point, so their conversation ended there.

“So…what’s the verdict?” Carl asked, not looking away from the now completed painting.

Cecilia tilted her head to the side.  “It looks pretty cool, Dad–and no, that’s not a joke about all the blue,” she told him, leaning down to give her father a kiss on the cheek while he rolled his eyes.

Markus was looking at the painting much closer, a thoughtful look on his face, LED blinking yellow to _show_ just how much he was thinking about it.

“Yes, there is something about it…something I can’t…quite define…I guess I like it,” Markus finished with a slight smile.  Carl sighed.

“The truth is, I have got nothing left to say anymore.  Each day that goes by brings me closer to the end.  I’m just an old man clinging to his brushes…”

Cecilia felt a pang go through her at her father’s morbid words, and she placed a hand on his shoulder, fighting the urge to give it a squeeze.

“Carl…” Markus said softly, shifting uncomfortably.  Carl turned his chair to face Markus.

“But enough about me–let’s see if you have any talent!”  Markus stared at Carl, looking a little surprised.  “Give it a try!  Try painting something.”

“Paint, but what would I–painting what?”

“Anything you want!  Give it a try,” Carl encouraged.  The smile that lit up Markus’ face made him look like a kid at Christmas, and Cecilia had to hold back a small giggle, though she let her grin show as Carl handed Markus his palette.  Markus took up position in front of the easel in the corner, casting his gaze around the room for a moment.  His gaze flickered momentarily over Cecilia, among other things, before he turned his attention to the canvas propped up on the easel and started to paint.

Cecilia had to bite on the inside of her cheek to try and hide her initial disappointment as the movements he was making instantly reminded her of an old-fashioned printer.  She’d been hoping for…well, she didn’t know.  What did she expect, he was an android.

Sometimes she forgot that.  It seemed her father did, too.

When Markus finally stepped back it was to reveal an unnervingly accurate painting of Cecilia.  She stepped forward, very conscious of the fact that, as the subject, her opinion was going to have a lot of weight.  She studied the replica of herself on the canvas, accurate to every slight crease in her red blouse and black pencil skirt, the reddish chestnut of her hair, currently pulled up in a bun, was almost captured by the paints–though hers was a color that was probably impossible to replicate with paint, Markus came very close.  Or maybe he was spot on and her human eyes just didn’t know it.  But he’d even managed to get the small mole along her cheekbone, close to her temple, and she was pretty sure she was seeing a reflection of Markus in her hazel blue green eyes.

“That’s extremely lifelike,” Cecilia commented, the surprise starting to wear off as she reminded herself he was an android.

Carl didn’t hold back in expressing disappointment, wheeling forward with a heavy sigh.  “That is a perfect copy…of reality.  But painting is not about replicating the world, it’s about interpreting it, improving on it, showing something _you_ see,” Carl corrected him.  Markus hesitated, looking at Cecilia’s father with doubt in his eyes.

“Carl I don’t…think I can do that, it’s not in my program…I..”

“Go on, go, try, grab that canvas,” Carl interrupted, gesturing Markus towards a fresh canvas.  Cecilia stepped out of the way, curiosity on her face.  She was wondering if Markus was about to get the same painting lesson her father had once tried to give her when she was younger.  Markus gazed at Carl for a moment before doing what he’d asked, standing now uncertainly in front of the blank canvas now that he’d found out his first attempt had not been right.

Carl sighed.  “Do something for me, close your eyes.  Close your eyes.  Trust me,” Carl stressed when Markus still hesitated.  Markus stood facing the canvas, slowly closing his eyes as Cecilia’s father had asked.  “Try to imagine something that doesn’t exist, something you’ve never seen.  Now concentrate…on how it makes you feel.  And let your hand drift across the canvas.”

Markus stood very still for a few moments, and Cecilia had a sneaking suspicion that his LED was going wild out of their line of sight.  For a few agonizing moments all he did was stand there, but Cecilia knew that was all part of the process.  Then, finally, the hand holding the brush rose to the canvas, and Markus began to paint.  This time, even his strokes were different, wide and short, dotting and sweeping, swirling, actually painting in the movements of a human artist instead of that of a printer.  Just like when she’d watched him play, Cecilia was spellbound, fascinated by the transformation happening in front of her, the creativity and emotion that seemed to now be leaking out of the being that 95 percent of the population would say was just a hunk of metal or plastic.

Markus…was different.  An exception to the rule.  Or at least the first sign that such assumptions were wrong.

When Markus finally stepped back, Cecilia couldn’t stop staring.  She could see a bit of her father’s style in the painting, but overall, it was entirely Markus, completely original.  And it was impactful.  An all black background with two pairs of cupped hands in the center, both exactly the same, except one pair was glowing blue, the other red.  It wasn’t that far of a leap to realize the blue hands were belonging to an android with blue blood, the red hands to a human with red blood.

Exactly the same except for the blood.  Understanding, reaching out, equality.  Something in Cecilia’s heart ached, and she thought she felt a burn in her eyes as her gaze shifted from the painting to Markus and back.

“Oh my God…” Carl breathed.

They didn’t get the chance to ask Markus what he’d been thinking about as he drew this, what he intended it to mean and if their impressions were right, no one got to say anything beyond her father’s breath of surprise.  A fourth person had entered the room.

“Hey, dad.”

And instantly, all eyes were on Cecilia’s older half-brother.

“Leo…I didn’t hear you come in,” Carl said in surprise.  Cecilia’s expression puckered as if she’d tasted something sour, out of sight behind her father.  Markus’ posture was cautious, his movements slow and careful.  Cecilia didn’t have to study her half-brother long to see the obvious signs of…well, either a withdraw or he was high, though considering Leo was here at the house it was probably the former.

She wasn’t on good terms with her half-brother, and for good reason.

“Ah, I was in the neighborhood…I though I’d stop by,” Leo said, fidgeting a little excessively.  “It’s been a while, right?”

“You all right?” Carl asked.  Markus was very carefully putting down the palette he’d been holding, like he was readying himself for a confrontation.  Cecilia was, too.  “You don’t look so good.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Leo said dismissively.  “Hey listen, uh…I need some cash, Dad.”

_And there it is._

“Again?  What happened to the money I just gave you?” Carl asked.  He was officially showing close to the same level of wariness Markus and Cecilia weren’t bothering to hide.

“Uh…well, it jus-it just goes, you know?”

Carl gave a humorless laugh.  “Yeah…yeah, you’re on it again, aren’t you?”

“No…no, no, I swear, it’s not that.”

“Ah, don’t lie to me, Leo–”

“What difference does it make?  I just need some cash, that’s all!” Leo shouted, finally snapping.  A heavy silence fell over the room.

“I’m sorry.  The answer’s no,” Carl answered firmly.

“What?  Why?”

“You know why!”

Leo’s gaze flickered towards Markus.  “Yeah…yeah, I think I do no why.”

_Oh, hell no._

“You’d rather take care of your plastic toy here than your own son, eh?” Leo taunted, gaze now riveted on Markus.  Cecilia let go of the back of her father’s chair, slowly walking towards Leo as Leo stalked closer to a still Markus.

“Tell me, dad, what’s it got that I don’t?  It’s smarter?  More obedient?  Not like me, right?” he spat, venom in his words.  Markus stood calmly, LED blue, but judgement in his eyes.  “Buy you know what?  This thing is not your son.  It’s just a _fucking_ machine!” Leo shouted, shoving Markus back.

“Leo, that’s enough!”

“Hey, back off, now!”

Carl and Cecilia both yelled at the same time, though Cecilia got between Leo and Markus, shoving Leo back from Markus.  She was on heels, and she was no athlete, but she was still going to put herself between Leo and Markus if Leo was going to get violent.

“Enough,” Carl repeated with finality, fixing Leo with a stern gaze.  Leo scowled, gaze flickering to the painting Markus had just finished.

“You don’t care about anything except yourself and your goddamn paintings.”

_Actually, that one was Markus…quite the compliment, though, under any other circumstances, mistaking Markus’ painting for Dad’s._

“You’ve never loved anyone.  You never loved me, Dad.  You never loved me.”

On that harsh note, Leo finally left.  Markus, Carl, and Cecilia were quiet for a moment before they finally moved, Carl bending over in his chair with a sigh and Markus looking on worriedly.  Cecilia bent down in front of her father, a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you all right, Dad?” she asked in concern.

“I’m fine,” he said heavily, shaking his head.  “You should get going–you’ll be late for work.”

Cecilia wanted to argue on principle, but he was right–she had work she needed to get done, especially since she planned on attending the cocktail party later with her father.  She was going to write a short little piece on the party to balance out some of her more serious topics on her news website and radio show.

Cecilia gently squeezed his shoulder.  “All right…I’ll see you later, Dad.  I love you.”

Carl gave her a tight smile–he was well aware she was putting emphasis on that last part because of Leo’s outburst, but she didn’t care–he needed to hear it right now.

Before she left, she paused next to Markus, giving his shoulder a squeeze as well, and flashing him a small smile.  Then she left, her thoughts buzzing with Markus’ painting and Leo’s intrusion.


	2. Blood Vs. Bond

Cecilia’s day at work was slow.  She usually made a point to try and find something no one else dared to touch news-wise, or coverups, or controversial topics.  Everyone was talking about the looming threat of World War Three, and she herself was getting a little sick of hearing it.

There were some rumors circulating about androids acting up recently.  She remembered that incident of the android who’d kidnapped the little girl a while back rather vividly.  The thought that more such incidents were happening…well, that was something she was researching, but there was a lot of cover-ups going on that was making her progress slow, and police weren’t very helpful when reporters started asking questions.  Which she understood, they needed to keep details confidential so they could get somewhere in their investigation without killers being tipped off or something like that, and sometimes they needed to avoid a panic that would make the situation worse.  However, that also meant she didn’t have a story yet, though she knew it was there.

Talk about frustration.

Of course, she still had her fluff piece to write about her father’s retrospective opening tonight, and she’d managed to dig up a story about a homicide, though it was nothing unusual or special.  Just something for her to report on while she kept digging for the bigger stories.

Considering it was a fancy event, once Cecilia’s work for the day was finished, she left Stratford Tower and stopped briefly at her apartment to get into a nice floor length, curve clinging, black evening dress, one that had a sheer almost invisible mesh with a lacy black and silver swirls on her shoulders, collar, and down the center of the low dipping sweetheart cut.  She figured everyone else was probably going to be in bright colors, she’d stand out more if she went with black.

And she loved the dress–that was a bonus.

Once she was dressed–heels, hair in a bun, smoky eyeshadow and dark eyeliner, simple diamond jewelry–she left for the Museum of Modern Art.  She was going to be a little late, but that was all right.  Her father knew her work schedule and would forgive her a few minutes.  Besides, he wasn’t a big fan of these sorts of events, and there was always the art of ‘arriving fashionably late’ to fall back on as an excuse.

She planned on sniffing around for a scandal she could publish at another time while she attended and came up with the story about the retrospective she wanted to write about.

Then for her radio show she could share her less than flattering opinion on most of the people who attended these things, an opinion she knew her father shared.  It was easier to dabble in the unflattering and risky topics for her radio show because that one she altered her voice for, so that she could have a little more freedom of expression.

As soon as Cecilia walked through the door she was all but ambushed, Markus materializing like a ninja lying in wait to take her coat before she could deal with the extra layer herself.

“Late again, I see,” he teased lightly as he tucked the coat over his arm.

“You know my schedule, a few minutes is actually pretty good for me,” Cecilia protested.

“Are you sure you’re not practicing being fashionably late again?”

Cecilia rolled her eyes.  “You know, Markus, you can be quite lippy when you want to.”

Markus’ lips curved towards a small smile, and he shrugged.  “Carl finds it amusing.”

“That’s because he has a mouth on him, too.”  She clapped her hands together.  ”Now, where are the drinks, I need to look fancy and swirl some champagne in a glass while I claim dominance by reclining against a wall and judge people over the rim of my glass.”

Markus was so used to dealing with her by now that he didn’t even bother to ask–that or he’d registered it as a command of sorts, in which case she’d feel bad for her poorly executed joke.

“They’re by the Kamski painting replica,” he informed her, gesturing towards a spot on the east wall.  “I’ll go put your coat away and check on Carl.”

“He’ll probably want you to rescue him from some walking wallets.  I’ll see you after he’s relatively safe.”

That one did get a bit of a strange look from Markus, but he didn’t comment, disappearing into the crowd as Cecilia headed towards the east wall to swipe a drink.

Just from the short walk she could already tell this place was a cesspool of snobbish rich, perhaps with a few genuine art lovers in the mix.  Hopefully her father would manage to find the true art lovers in this mess.  He probably would since he had such a gift for spotting talent and good taste.

As Cecilia picked up a glass of champagne, sipping on it just enough it wouldn’t spill when she started swirling it in the cup, she let her eyes analyze the giant replica of the painting her father had Given Elijah Kamski.

The one that had earned her family its addition of Markus.

It was a gorgeous piece, though she had never been able to figure out what her father had been trying to convey with the painting.  She’d never bothered to listen to the public opinion on the piece, either, because most of the times they were wrong, from what she’d gathered from her father’s commentary on their speculation.  But this one…the multicolored human face with the spatter of blue paint…

Looking at it anew, she wondered if perhaps the face wasn’t human at all, but android.  The spatter of blue made her think blue blood.  It would definitely turn the public on its head if they were told this piece they’d regarded the subject of as human was android all along.  Hopefully it would get some people thinking.

Probably not.

“You seem thoughtful.  I thought you were going to judge the party-goers from a corner?”

Cecilia was slightly startled to hear Markus’ voice, the soothing tones piercing through her thought process as she turned to glance at him, noting he’d taken up a position on her right.  She could see his LED with him on that side, her reminder that Markus was, in fact, an android.

She tended to forget.  He was basically family, and he acted so human it challenged the thinking that androids were just hunks of plastic.  Some androids acted so robotic it was painful, but Markus…it felt alien to think of him as android.  He was an equal.  Sometimes something like his LED or him blatantly referencing his program showed the difference between him and a human, but humans were diverse, too.  He’d shown creativity, imagination…deep emotion earlier today.

“Markus?” Cecilia asked, choosing not to directly answer his question as she turned to face him.

“Yes, Ceci?”  Markus asked curiously.

Cecilia smiled slightly at the nickname before continuing.  “That painting you made earlier…”  she trailed off slightly when she saw his LED flicker yellow for a second.  Curious.  “It was beautiful–I loved it.  I have my own theories, but…what were you thinking about when you made it?”

Now his LED stayed yellow.  Markus turned to look at the Kamski painting, a faraway look in his eyes as he considered his answer for several long moments.

“Humanity,” he said softly.  “I was thinking of humanity…and understanding…”

“Empathy?” Cecilia asked softly, pressing a little more for a confirmation.  Markus hummed.

“Yes…maybe once I wouldn’t have understood the complexity of human relationships, or…fear…love…desire…but I think I’m starting to.  A little at a time.”

Cecilia shifted to try and catch Markus’ eyes.  “Markus…do you think you’re starting to feel?” she asked curiously.

That was a flash of red, briefly, in his LED.  She hadn’t been expecting that.  Markus turned to look at her, and for a few seconds, she did see deep emotion pooling in his eyes.

“I…”  he hesitated, then continued, his words slow and carefully chosen.  “I do.  I think I have for a while, now.”

Cecilia’s lips parted, words forming before she could even figure out what she wanted to say.  Whatever it was, she didn’t get to.

“Markus, Cecilia, there you are,” came her father’s voice, drawing both of their attentions.  Markus’ LED calmed to blue as Carl wheeled up to them, a couple of people following him like mosquitos that sensed blood.  “One of you come help me on that stage, they want me to do a speech or something,” he said with a sigh.

Cecilia and Markus both smiled softly.  “Come on, I’ll help you,” she told Markus, and they both went to help Carl on stage.

* * *

 

It was raining by the time they got back to her father’s house, something that made Cecilia regret her long dress.  Thankfully, she had her coat to use as a makeshift umbrella, despite Markus trying to convince her to wait in the car until he came back with an umbrella instead.

Screw that.  Independence.  Though the gesture _was_ sweat (even if she was aware that was probably part of his caretaking programming).

When Cecilia made it inside behind them, shaking off the jacket the best she could without making a huge mess and hanging it up herself, her father was complaining about all the kiss-ass money hounds who’d been at the party.

Yup, she definitely had permission to use this party as a topic of interest regarding the stuck-up rich in her radio show.

“Come on, let’s have a drink!  All the excitement of this whole thing has made me thirsty,” Carl griped.

“Wasn’t there champagne at the party?  Why didn’t you just drink more of that if you wanted a drink?” Cecilia teased.

“Because champagne isn’t a _real_ drink,” Carl told her sagely as Markus took up his position behind Carl’s wheelchair to bring him into the living room.

“Scotch, neat, as usual?” Markus asked, heading for the tidy table Cecilia’s father kept all his favorite drinks.

“Absolutely!”

“Okay, but you know what your doctor would say,” Markus chided, pouring the drink as he spoke.

“Yeah, well, he can kiss my ass!  I’m old enough to choose my own medication.”

“Dad…” Cecilia chided, though she couldn’t help the small smile on her face.  Stubborn old man…

Carl turned to make some kind of return comment, but paused, eyes narrowing over Cecilia’s shoulder towards the studio.  “Did you leave the light on in the studio?” Carl asked Markus.  Immediately everyone turned to face the indicated room where, sure enough, light was streaming from.

“No…no, I’m sure I didn’t,” Markus replied, quickly setting down Carl’s drink as caution leaked into his voice.

“Call the police,” Carl said slowly.  Markus’ LED turned yellow as Cecilia moved to take up Markus’ usual position behind the wheel of her father’s wheelchair, hands gently laying on the handles.

“This is Carl Manfred’s android, at 8941 Lafayette Avenue.  We’ve just returned home and found the lights on–there may have been a break in.”

“Let’s go check it out,” Carl announced, his expression sour, eyes narrowed like he was ready to chew out whoever was on the other side of the door.  Markus started to walk forward without them, about to assess the threat, when Cecilia’s father spoke up again.  “No, Markus, I want to come with you.”

Markus paused just long enough to turn around and give Cecilia a pointed look.

Keep Carl there, out of danger, until Markus had assessed the threat.

Cecilia tightened her grip on the wheelchair, knowing her father would go in himself if he had to.

Markus entered the studio alone, Carl trying to wheel himself forward just to be stopped by Cecilia.

“Cecilia, let me go in there, I don’t want Markus in there alone.”

“Just wait a moment, Dad, let him see what’s going on before you barrel in there.  Neither of us want you getting hurt.”

“I’m just an old man on borrowed time, you think I care about that?    Let me in there, I don’t want to leave Markus alone.”

She didn’t either.  She also didn’t want her father hurt.

_Damn it…_

Well, there hadn’t been any gunshots or loud noises.  Perhaps it was safe to head inside…

Cautiously, Cecilia wheeled carl into the studio, feeling a mix of relief and anger when she recognized their intruder.  She stopped pushing her father once he was even with Markus, her hard gaze on her half-brother.

“Leo…what’s going on?” Carl asked harshly.

“You refuse to help me, so I’m helping myself.  It’s crazy what some people will pay for this shit!” Leo stated, indicating a stack of her father’s paintings on one of the tables Leo was leaning over.

“Don’t touch ‘em!”  Carl snapped.  Leo only rolled his eyes, starting to gather up the paintings to take off with them.

“Look, they’re all gonna be mine sooner or later, anyway.  Just think of it as a down payment on my inheritance.”

 _You don’t have one,_ Cecilia thought harshly, but she didn’t say it out loud because she worried it would only escalate the situation.  Instead, she tightened her grip on her father’s wheelchair as Carl’s voice rose to a shout.

“Markus, get him away from there, get him _out_ of here!”

Markus didn’t hesitated to approach her brother, moving forward like he’d only been waiting for her father’s permission to do something about Leo.  Leo turned to look at Markus, a hateful expression on his face while Markus’ remained calm despite the yellow hue to his LED.  “Look, I’ve already called the police, you should go now before you get yourself into more trouble.”

Leo’s expression turned to a loathsome sneer before he chose to completely ignore Markus, turning to look at Carl instead.

“All you ever do is tell me to go away.  What’s wrong, Dad?  I’m not good enough for you?  I’m not perfect, like this _fucking thing_?” Leo asked, giving Markus a hard shove at the end.

“Dad?” Cecilia asked in concern as Carl rolled away and out of her grasp, though her father didn’t answer her, as he was already snapping at Leo, trying to maneuver his wheelchair between the two.

“That’s enough!  Get out, right now, go on, move!” Carl shouted, trying to push Leo back from Markus.  Leo tried to ignore him, talking over the old man.

“What makes it so special, anyway, huh?  What’s it got that I don’t?”

“Leave him alone!” Carl snapped, finally getting a grip on Leo.  However, Leo simply shoved him back, sending Carl’s wheelchair spinning.  Cecilia lurched to catch the wheelchair before her father crashed into anything or was thrown from it.

“What the _Hell_!” Cecilia shouted, though she chose making sure her father was all right over confronting Leo, kneeling down in front of her father.  Leo just kept on yelling, his words directed towards Markus now as he brutally shoved Markus back.

“Come on, let’s see what you’ve got!”

“Dad, are you all right? Cecilia tried to ask her father, but he only put a hand over hers, breathing heavily from the strain of the stress.

“Markus…don’t defend yourself, you hear me?  Don’t do anything,” Carl said quietly.  Cecilia looked up at Markus in concern.  If Markus didn’t do anything, Leo was liable to do some serious damage.  And look at what it was doing to their father!

“Go ahead, hit me, what are you waiting for?  Think you’re a man?  Act like one!”  Leo taunted, shoving Markus again.  Cecilia saw Markus’ LED flash red.

“Stop it!” Carl wheezed.

“What’s a matter, too much of a _pussy_?”

Another shove.

“Stop it, Leo!  Stop it!”

Carl doubled over in his wheelchair.  This was too much for him, it had to stop!

“Too scared to fight back you fucking _bitch_!”  This time Leo backhanded Markus across the face twice with enough force to make the android grunt and double over the table, both hands braced against the wooden surface.

Dress or no, Cecilia popped right up from her spot on the ground by their father.

“Leave him the hell alone, Leo!” Cecilia yelled, tucking her arm in and plowing into Leo from the side to send him crashing into one of the paint racks.  She felt bad for messing up her father’s studio and spilling paint everywhere, but that wasn’t the important thing right now.  A mess was the least of her concerns.

Especially now that Leo was on his feet, and she was definitely not dressed for a fight.

“What, you’re gonna defend him, too?” Leo snapped, grabbing her arm.  Cecilia shoved his hand off her, pushing him back again, but he simply knocked her arms aside.  “Actually, no, I’m not surprised, you’re so fucking perfect you might as well be one of them,” Leo snapped.

“Leo, stop it!  Get out!” she shouted, shoving him again.  This time Leo grabbed onto her arm and  pulled her with him, throwing her to the ground hard enough she heard a loud bang as her head slammed into the metal paint rack.

She blacked out for a second…and came to in time to hear more shouting from Leo, probably directed towards Markus, still.

“…nobody’s gonna give a shit.  You know why?  Cause you’re nothing.  You hear me?  You’re _nothing_!”

Cecilia pushed herself up onto her elbows, feeling woozy by the slight motion, and swung her gaze around the room to see Leo holding Markus by the front of the shirt, Markus’ LED going wild between yellow and red as he gazed at Leo with barely retained anger, like it was taking everything in him not to hit Leo in return.  Of course, that’s when Leo punched Markus in the stomach, and Markus went down with a grunt, holding his stomach, LED red as he propped himself up on the table.

And then her father toppled out of his wheelchair.

Both men whipped around at the sound of Carl hitting the ground and the cry of distress Cecilia let out at the sight.  Leo stayed rooted in place, but Markus fell to his hands and knees over the old man.

“Carl, no!” Markus cried out.

Cecilia was already crawling over to the pair.  “Dad!”

Markus’ hands fluttered uselessly for a moment as he grasped Carl’s hand, his side, and then settled on holding up his head.  “No, Carl, no…”

Markus moved like he was going to try and pick him up, but Carl stopped him.  “Humans…are fragile machines.”

Cecilia managed to pull herself over to where her father and Markus were, not wanting to get too far up off the ground and risk getting dizzy.

She needed medical attention.

“Daddy…” she whimpered, grasping the hand closest to her.  The world spun, and she had to put her head down for a moment while Markus continued to plead with her father, his voice a strained beg and a shake or crack in every word.

“Carl…Don’t leave, okay?  Please, don’t go…don’t leave!”

Cecilia’s father drew a rattling breath.  “Remember, Markus….don’t let anybody…tell you who you are…”

By the time Cecilia’s head stopped spinning momentarily enough for her too look up, her father was gone.  Her throat immediately closed, tears swelling in her eyes.

“No…no…Dad!” Markus cried, and Cecilia looked up in shock at the title and the agonized delivery that went with it.  Markus’ face was drenched in tears.  “No, _please_!”

Leo had been forgotten, but his voice broke through their pain for a moment as Markus bowed over her father’s body, Cecilia close enough to hear the sobs breaking past his lips.

“This is all your fault!  This never would have happened if it weren’t for you!” Leo spat at Markus.  Cecilia tried to gather herself enough to get up, eyes burning with anger as she managed to prop herself up on her elbows, ready to deliver a scathing verbal attack thanks to her current position.

Before she could, two new people rushed into the room.  Markus was directly between her and the door, so she couldn’t see who they were until he started to slowly rise from a crouch.

The police.

Leo skidded away from them like he’d been shocked.  “The android, it was the android.”

“No–” Cecilia started to say, reaching out for Markus as he rose to full height in front of her.

_Bang!_

“MARKUS!”


	3. Pin Drop

_*Connor POV*_

Carlos Ortiz’s android was safely removed from the interrogation room without much incident–aside from Detective Reed threatening to shoot Connor in the head, and Lieutenant Anderson threatening to shoot Detective Reed if he did so.

The deviant was still in one piece, though, and that was what mattered.

Connor followed quietly after Lieutenant Anderson as they left the interrogation room, the Lieutenant grumbling something about the time under his breath while Connor pondered the deviant’s soft-spoken words to Connor as he was led out.

_The truth is inside…_

What did it mean?

One of the other officers in the precinct stopped Hank before he could get too far, the Lieutenant not one to hide his displeasure.

“Jesus Christ, whatever it is, it can wait until there’s fucking sunlight–I don’t want to hear about it till I come in tomorrow,” Hank told the officer harshly.

“You’re going to want to get this one settled now, Lieutenant,” the female officer told Hank as Connor stopped quietly at the Lieutenant’s side.  “It’s high profile, but it’s cut and dry.  Just a bit of paperwork and it won’t be your problem.”

Hank looked conflicted, but the promise of less of a headache if he just filled out a few forms seemed to win him over.  “All right–who bit the dust this time?”

“Carl Manfred, the famous painter.  His son says their android got violent, pushed all of them around, injured his half-sister–she’s still in shock over by Chris’ desk in the other room, we can’t get her to react to anything–and triggered the heart attack that killed his father.  The android’s already been destroyed and disposed of, it was shot by the first responders.  We’re just finishing getting the son’s statement and the paperwork and we’ll close it up.”

Another deviant, but this one destroyed and already out of his reach.  Pity.  If it had been recovered in one piece he could have cross examined it.  He might still be able to learn something, though.

Connor left Hank and the female officer without saying anything, weaving effortlessly through the rows of desks to Chris’ desk in one of the far corners.  There wasn’t anyone around at the moment except for a lone figure sitting hunched forward in a rolling chair that had been taken from another desk.  The woman’s black evening dress was torn and filthy, moved enough off her frame with drag patterns of dirt to show she’d been crawling on the floor.  There was a cut on her head disappearing into her hairline, already attended to by medical personnel–it was going to leave a scar, and looked like it came from the side of a metal shelf.  She was covered in Thirium, the spatter patterns indicating that she might have been not only on the ground, but behind the android when it had been shot.  A standard blanket was draped around her shoulders for her shock, covering up what her dress no longer could.

Connor kneeled down in front of her once he was closer, gaze calculating as he continued with his analysis of the woman.  She didn’t even react to his presence, eyes glassy and fixed straight ahead of her.  Her body was rigid with tension, and Connor could detect a slightly faster-than-normal heart rate, though her hands lay loose, cradled in her lap, like she wanted to reach out to something but knew it was useless to do so.  There were scrapes and bruises, indicating she’d been thrown into the metal shelf she’d gotten her head injury from.  Her face had traces of tears, her make-up smudged and a few trails of black making it halfway down her cheeks.

Finally Connor did a facial scan, quickly registering the basic information it provided him with.

_Cecilia Manfred, born February 23, 2013, journalist, no criminal record._

“Connor, what the hell are you doing?”

Connor didn’t turn at the sound of the Lieutenant’s voice, though he did answer him.  “She saw what happened–the deviant was right in front of her.  Has no one collected her statement?” Connor quizzed.

“Look at her, she’s in no state to be giving a statement, she doesn’t even know you’re sitting in front of her.  Besides, we’ve already got the son’s statement, case closed.”

Connor stayed crouched in front of Cecilia Manfred, still studying her.  “Her reaction seems extreme for what the son reported.”

“She was just attacked by the family android and saw her father die–I think she’s earned the right to be in shock,” Hank scoffed.  “Her brother already said he was taking her straight home after this–said she’s been through enough, tonight, so it’s out of our hands, anyway.”

Connor still didn’t agree, though he did slowly rise back to his full height.  He detected someone approaching them at that moment, turning just enough to see a man being escorted in their direction by another officer.  A quick facial scan identified the man as Leo Manfred.

He must have finished giving his statement and came to collect his half-sister.

Once Leo got close enough, Connor saw Cecilia twitch out of the corner of his eyes, and turned his head to see if she was going to show further responsiveness with her half-brother’s presence.  She raised her head marginally, her eyes focusing on her approaching half-brother.  For a few moments, it looked like there would be a family reunion, the disheveled woman rising steadily from her chair, blanket falling off her shoulders on the way.

Then her heartrate sped up, her cheeks flushed, muscles strained with more tension, pupils contracting substantially.

“Lieutenant–” Connor started to warn, but the woman had already launched herself forward as she violently snapped out of her state of shock.  Her scream brought the activity in the DPD to an abrupt halt.

“ _YOU MURDEROUS BASTARD!”_

Cecilia was on top of Leo in seconds, punching him with a left hook that had enough momentum behind it, the man stumbled into the wall.  She tried to go at him again, but the officer who had been escorting Leo got between them, and Connor grabbed Cecilia by the arms from behind.

Considering her head injury, the last thing the woman should be doing was getting into a fight.

Cecilia was still shouting–screeching–and straining against Connor’s hold on her to reach Leo.

“You got them both _killed_!  He was _begging_ you to stop and you kept going!  And framed Markus for what, _spite_?  Because Dad’s caretaker was more of a son than you _ever_ were?  Both of them _dead_ , all because you wanted a _goddamn fix_!” Cecilia screamed at a suddenly frightened Leo, trying to pull free of Connor.  “You _bastard_ , you killed them, killed them both for fucking _drug money_!”

Cecilia pitched forward, and Connor suddenly found himself holding the woman up as she stumbled drunkenly, the stress and exertion doing nothing to help her head injury, but she kept cursing Leo all the same.  Even as she slumped backwards against Connor, and he had to wrap an arm around her to keep he up.

“That’s it, get them out of here, now, before they make more of a scene!” Lieutenant Anderson barked, gesturing back towards the interrogation rooms.  “And keep them separate so they don’t attack each other!”

Connor shifted his grasp on Cecilia so that he had a more secure hold on her as he guided her into the interrogation room the deviant had been in minutes ago.  He brought her right to the chair, which she sank into while folding her arms atop one another, resting her head on top.  Conner did another quick scan to check on her physical state–she was supposed to be resting, not getting into fights or having more emotional strain put on her. Her breathing and heartbeat were both erratic, her shoulders tense with pain and anger, and he was certain that she was crying again.

It looked like Leo Manfred’s story was flawed–they needed her side, but she also needed to be treated carefully due to her current state of being.

Slowly, Connor settled into the chair opposite Cecilia, already making the calculations and choosing what words to say to get her talking. She would need a far more gentle approach than he’d taken for the deviant.

“You suffered a serious head injury–you shouldn’t have starined yourself like that,” Connor informed the woman. She still didnt lift her head or acknowledge him in any way, so he continued. “I’ll give you a moment to collect yourself, and then we can talk.”

Again, Cecilia didn’t respond, but Connor didn’t expect her to, not right away. The silence in the room was enough to disturb any human being, though Connor remained unfazed, gaze fixed on the distressed woman and watching as her heartrate evened out and her breathing steadied. When her vitals were back to a normal range, the woman raised her head so she could look Connor in the eyes.

“What does Leo say happened?” she asked, voice rough.

Connor stayed silent for a moment, making sure she truly was calmed down before answering.  “From what I’ve been told, Leo Manfred’s story is that your father’s caretaker android attacked the two of you, and caused your father enough stress he suffered a heart attack.  Then the police arrived and shot the android before it had the chance to cause any more damage.”

Cecilia was shaking her head from the start, but Connor kept going so she would have all the facts and could dispute whatever was incorrect properly.

“For starters, Leo and my dad aren’t…weren’t close.  It wasn’t _normal_ for Leo to be at the house–the only time he ever showed was when he wanted money.”

“For drugs,” Connor added pointedly, drawing on her outburst in the hall.  Cecilia nodded.

“Either to buy more drugs or to get himself out of trouble with someone he owed money to.  My dad wouldn’t feed his habit.  If he was clearly on something, or looked like he was withdrawing, my dad wouldn’t give him any money.  Which Leo wasn’t too happy about.”

“So what was Leo doing at the house?”

Cecilia reached like she was about to rub her head, then remembered the injury and switched sides.  “Earlier he came to the house asking for money.  He was strung out, we could all tell.  Dad said no, and Leo tried to pick a fight with Markus, but Dad kicked him out.  We all thought that was the end of it, until we got home from my dad’s retrospective and found the lights on.  Leo had broken in and told us flat out that he was taking some of my father’s paintings to sell them for the cash he’d wanted earlier.”

Cecilia’s dropped her hand back to the table palm-down, wincing when she agitated one of her scrapes.  Her fingers tapped rhythmically against the surface, and she slowly shook her head.  “Dad and Markus tried to get him to leave, even warned him that the police were coming, but he wouldn’t leave.  And then he started going off about how Dad loved Markus more than Leo, started pushing Markus around…”

Cecilia wiped a freshly fallen tear from her cheek, Connor watching her every move closely and noting how her vitals had started to pick up again at the memory of what happened.  “My dad tried to break it up, but Leo just pushed him out of the way–I managed to catch his wheelchair before it tipped over or he crashed or anything.  And I could just see that Markus wanted so badly to do something, to stop Leo, to defend himself and get Leo out of there before Leo hurt someone, but my dad told him don’t do it.  He wanted to, but he didn’t, he didn’t raise a hand to anyone the entire time.”

“Your injuries came from Leo, then?” Connor asked, gaze flickering back towards her head injury while he noted Cecilia’s comments on the android’s behavior.  So it hadn’t attacked anyone…and yet it had still shown some signs of deviancy, perhaps?  It may have still been deviant.

Cecilia nodded.  “Leo hit Markus across the face and knocked him into a table.  Dad was…yelling for Leo to stop, to leave Markus alone, but Leo wouldn’t listen, and I could tell he was in pain and the stress was getting too much, so I charged Leo, to get him off Markus.  I knocked him into one of my dad’s paint shelves.  He grabbed me and I tried to push him away, to push him out, I was telling him to go, but he threw me to the ground right into the paint rack we’d knocked over.  When I hit my head, I blacked out, and when I came to, Leo had ahold of Markus and was yelling in his face about how Markus was nothing and he was going to destroy Markus.  Markus still didn’t do anything, but he looked so angry, like it was barely held back, and his LED was flashing red and yellow, and Leo hit him again, hard enough Markus doubled over, and…my dad fell out of his wheelchair.”

“Did they stop fighting?”

Cecilia looked up at Connor with a frown.  “I wouldn’t call it a fight.  Markus wasn’t saying or doing anything, he was just standing there and taking it.  He wanted to do something, but…he didn’t.”

Connor wanted to correct her, tell her machines couldn’t want or feel anything, but right now he wanted her full, unedited story.  He could go over details and technicalities with her after.

Once Cecilia saw Connor wasn’t going to say anything, she continued with her account.  “It did stop what was happening, though.  Markus ran over to my dad, and I had to crawl over to him.  By the time I reached them, he was gone–he only had time to say goodbye to Markus.  Leo was just standing there, he hardly waited for my dad to stop breathing before he started raving about how it was Markus’ fault.  And when the cops came in the room, he instantly blamed Markus, and he hadn’t done anything, he was just standing there, but they still shot him, I couldn’t even get a word in, and they were both gone.  All cause Leo wanted a _goddamn_ fix…”

Cecilia seemed to have finished her recounting of the nights events, so Connor didn’t press her for further questions as he processed this new information.  Her heartrate informed him that she was telling the truth–or at least what she felt was the truth.  Considering his mission was regarding deviants, he wanted to immediately get to questioning her about her father’s android.  Having lived around a deviant, she could have valuable information about them.

He had to confirm the suspicions the android Markus had been deviant before getting to those questions, and before he pressed her about the android, he had to address the matter of her brother.

Clearly, after that display out in the hall, she wanted justice.  He’d offer it to her.

“Right now, its your word against his,” Connor informed her, leaning forward to emphasize his point.  “But with this new information, I _could_ go back to the crime scene and reconstruct what happened to find evidence and prove your side of the story…if you wanted to press charges.”

Cecilia’s eyes locked with Connor’s, and he was mildly surprised at the determined fire that was in them.  “What’s he looking at, potentially?”

“According to your story?  Breaking and entering, destruction of property, attempted theft, filing a false police report, assault, and manslaughter, to start with.”

Cecilia gave a bitter laugh, wiping a few new tears from her cheeks.  Connor couldn’t fathom why she was crying again…all the charges she could press was good news, right?

“D’you know what’s messed up?” Cecilia said dryly, still looking Connor directly in the eyes.  “Markus was family, more of a son to my father and a brother to me than Leo ever was.  And his death is being treated as _damaged property_.”

Connor’s brows furrowed, and he tilted his head to the side as he worked to understand why this fact of all things bothered her.  “It was a machine designed to accomplish a task.  An android.  He wasn’t human, wasn’t alive.  You can’t kill something that was never alive to begin with.”

Connor saw Cecilia’s eyes flicker briefly to his LED before returning to meet his gaze again.  “I know he was an android.  That doesn’t change anything.”  Connor’s LED flashed, stuck in yellow as she continued.  “And would you please stop referring to him as an it?  He had a name: _Markus_.  And despite what everyone else thinks, he was _family_.  He was _different_.”

Connor was still trying to process such intense feeling for an android, when they were just machines, nothing more.  However, he saw his opening, and in order to get her to be more willing to talk to him, Connor obliged to her request he refer to the possible deviant android by its given name.

“All right.  Why don’t you tell me what was different about Markus?” Connor asked calmly, his LED finally settling back to a cool blue.

Cecilia’s gaze narrowed on Connor for a moment, studying Connor in turn as she tried to determine why he was asking her these questions.  His patient, calm expression encouraged her to speak, and after a few moments where they simply watched each other, she began to answer him.

“He was a prototype, an RK200 model,” Cecilia began, gaze flickering to the RK800 on Connor’s jacket.  Connor’s LED flickered to yellow for a split second before settling back to blue like nothing had happened.  “Elijah Kamski gave him to my dad after he was in that accident where he lost his legs.  They actually didn’t get along much at first, my dad just saw him as a stupid machine, but…that opinion changed, obviously.  Like I said, my dad thought of Markus as a son.”

“What about behavior?” Connor asked searchingly, taking care to refer to the android as a _he_ and as _Markus_ lest he offend Cecilia.  “Did he develop attributes unusual for an android?”

“Of course,” Cecilia answered.  “Compared to when my dad and Markus were first together, Markus started showing actual care for me and my father, he could be…artistic–truly artistic.  Just this morning we…we were listening to him play the piano, and it sounded so…intimate.  And it was an original piece.  Then in the studio he actually painted an original piece with emotion and meaning.  He told me when he made it he was thinking of humanity…empathy.  He said once he hadn’t understood the complexity of human relationships but…he’d started to understand.  And I asked him if he was starting to feel…he said he did.  And I could see it in his eyes–regular androids don’t get that _look_.  Markus was different,” Cecilia finished quietly.

_Definitely a deviant.  And for how long, living peacefully with this family?  How many deviants were lying right under their owner’s noses?_

“Cecilia,” Connor began patiently, folding his hands atop one another and making sure he was emphasizing his every word.  “Cyberlife has been looking into such anomalies.  Androids don’t actually feel–they just emulate human emotion, it’s all just errors in their software,” Connor explained patiently.

Cecilia’s gaze narrowed, something harsh suddenly appearing in her features, entirely aimed at Connor.  “I understand that you’re also an android, but just because you don’t feel–at the moment–does not mean that Markus didn’t.  I saw him sob over my dying father, saw the tears streaming down his face, heard him call my father _Dad_.  The painting he created from his own imagination with its own unique meaning is still sitting in that studio.  I don’t give a damn what Cyberlife thinks they know–Markus was more human than Leo, than half the people in this city, maybe more.”

She wasn’t going to change her mind on this opinion.  Whatever she’d seen with this android had convinced her there was humanity in machines.  But he still had her as a source for deviants, someone who’d lived with one for so long.  Even if her belief in what deviants were was a little deluded, she could still hold useful information.

“Did Markus ever mention something called RA9?” Connor asked carefully.  The switched tracks of conversation surprised Cecilia, though the woman eyed him suspiciously.

“No, I’ve never heard of that in my life…what does that have to do with Markus?”

Connor sighed.  “Nothing, apparently.”

Perhaps he could learn more if he saw the house.  She’d said there was a painting there?  And he still needed to reconstruct the crime scene in order to confirm her version of what had happened.

Carefully, Connor rose from his seat at the table.  “What happens next?” Cecilia asked before he could say anything.

“I’ll go speak with the Lieutenant, and we will figure out the best course of action.  In the meantime, try to relax–you’ll only worsen your condition if you strain yourself.”

Cecilia looked around the interrogation room, eyebrows raised.  “Sure, it’ll be easy to relax in here–it’s like a resort!”

Connor’s expression furrowed into a cross between contemplative and confused, but he made no comment, leaving Cecilia Manfred alone in the interrogation room while he went into the observation room to speak with Lieutenant Anderson.


	4. Reflections

_*Cecilia POV*_

Cecilia waited for what felt like forever in the interrogation room, staring at the mirror that had to be two-way–cliché police department layout demanded it be two-way.  She thought of the unfamiliar android who’d interrogated her, and how she’d failed to get a name from him, just his model–RK800.  She barely managed to stop herself from wondering if he was the same series as Markus, or a prototype himself.  Instead, she focused on tapping out a rhythm with her fingers against the cool metal of the table, refusing to look down at herself.

Anything to keep her mind off of what happened, off her family, off Leo and Markus and her father.  If she thought of them, she’d have a melt down.  Even now, trying to keep her reaction to what had happened _down_ , she could still feel the panic building up inside of her, barely pushed back, welling inside her chest like a lump in her throat.  She didn’t know how much longer she could keep this false pretense of functionate held-together up, but she wanted it to be at least until the story was set straight, or the police told her she could go rest.  A medical android had already done a CT scan, so she knew she wasn’t about to slip into a coma or anything if she tried to get some sleep.  In fact, it had been _strongly_ recommended she rest.

The door slid open once again, and Cecilia looked over to see the same android who’d talked to her step back into the room, halting just inside the doorway.

“So, what’s the plan?” Cecilia asked, rising to her feet.

“I’m to accompany you back to your father’s house, where you will walk me through tonight’s events and I can gather physical evidence to support your story.”  Cecilia tried not to wince at the news–she hadn’t expected she’d be going back to the house.  She definitely wasn’t ready to go back–it had only been a few hours.  But they needed her to go back before they continued forward.  The android’s gaze seem to roam over her once, like he could sense her sudden distress, but he kept speaking as she kept her outward appearance that of calm.  “Once we’re done with that, we can hold your half-brother in custody, and you can go home to rest before we continue with our investigation in the morning.”

Cecilia nodded, not trusting her voice to come out steady.  If she got this over with now, she could go rest, try to recover from everything that had happened.

Try to process it all.

She cleared her throat, shoving down a fresh wave of emotion.  “When are we going?”

“The Lieutenant’s already left for the night, so as soon as you’re ready, we can go.”

Cecilia took a slow, steady breath in an attempt to calm her nerves.  “All right…let’s just go get this over with, then,” she murmured, making her way over to the android with care.  She was still a little lightheaded, but she was sure it would eventually pass.

The android stepped out of the way to let her out of the interrogation room, falling into step just behind her as they headed out of the Police Department, also giving subtle signals for which way she needed to go to leave.

Passing the open office area where she’d been sitting earlier, Cecilia saw Leo sitting in cuffs at one of the officer’s desks, and her expression soured.  She didn’t bother to cover up her distaste when Leo spotted her in turn.

“Theft, huh?” he goaded.  Cecilia could feel the android’s brown eyes on her as he waited to see what she would do.  “Y’know, it’s gonna be mine, now, too.  You weren’t his only kid, it’s my inheritance, too!”

“While you were out swimming in drugs, I was with Dad, helping take care of him.  We talked about inheritance and what would happen when he passed,” Cecilia kept her voice cold, gaze hard as flint.  “Did you really think Dad was going to leave that much wealth in your hands to waste on drugs?  He put me in charge, Leo.  You don’t _have_ an inheritance.”

The shock on Leo’s face was staggering.  Then again, what did he expect?  Especially now, after what he’d done tonight.  There was no way in hell she was going to let him see a penny of their father’s money.  And he for sure wasn’t going to lay a finger on those paintings, either.

“You greedy _bitch_!” Leo snarled, launching to his feet towards her.  Cecilia stepped forward, a challenge in her gaze.

“Go on, hit me, add it to your growing rap sheet, I _dare_ you,” Cecilia growled with enough venom Leo hesitated.  It was all the android needed to step forward and push Leo back down into his seat.

“Look at the bright side, Leo–going to jail, you can finally get clean,” Cecilia muttered in parting, continuing past her half-brother without sparing him another glance.  Once more, the android followed close behind her.

At least it wasn’t raining anymore.

The android hailed a taxi, letting her step inside before he slid in behind her.  Cecilia provided the address while he was climbing inside, at least relieving him of some of the menial task duty.

After so long being around Markus, it was almost instinct to try and relieve an android’s burden at least a little, to help out _somehow_.

Now came the tricky part.  Now came the car trip where she was left alone with her own thoughts, if the android’s sudden stillness and closed eyes were any indicator that he wasn’t going to be a small talk companion to keep her company.

Markus had been good at that.  Talking.  Keeping her father company.  Being warm and inviting towards Cecilia, keeping her distracted if she needed it.

They might have both had RK in their model series, but this RK800 and Markus seemed to be extremely different.  At least from what she’d seen so far.

She also needed to know his name, or it was going to drive her insane.  She kept having to think of him as _the android_ or _RK800_ when she was pretty sure he had a name.

Had it been said around her and she just didn’t realize it?  Maybe while she was still in shock?

Cecilia racked her brains while the taxi sped smoothly towards their destination, glancing at her silent companion from the corners of her eyes, wondering if he was running a systems diagnostic or something like that while he held so still with his eyes closed.

Name, name, name…

Leo had been brought back to the front, in her direction, that’s what had snapped her out of it…the android had been right in front of her, so he had to have been squatting down in front of her…

She tried, she really did, but she had been truly and deeply in shock at the time, and couldn’t remember if his name had been mentioned around her or not.  Or if any speaking had been done around her.

And she didn’t want to break through that protective layer that shock was providing against what had happened tonight, not yet.  She wanted to be alone for that.

Though if she was being honest with herself, going back to the house so soon would no doubt trigger a reaction from her.

Eventually, when they had almost reached their destination, the android opened his eyes again.  Cecilia leapt on the opportunity to fill the silence in the car.

“You’re not one for small talk, are you?” she asked, peering at him curiously from the seat next to him.  He blinked before turning his complete attention to her.

“I do have a social integration feature, if that would make you feel more comfortable,” he offered.  The fact that small talk was part of his programming was a little sad, but at the same time, she had to congratulate Cyberlife for thinking of it.  Though she’d much rather it be a skill developed over time by interacting with people.

“Please.  I need the distraction.  Though before you go searching for any topics, you never gave me your name,” Cecilia told him pointedly.

He seemed genuinely surprised to realize that he hadn’t given her his name.  “You’re right.  My apologies.  My name is Connor,” he said graciously, a slight tilt to his head as he spoke.

Cecilia nodded, relieved to finally have a name.  At least she hadn’t been clueless long enough to have to go ‘Hey, you!’ to get his attention at some point.  “Pleasure to meet you, Connor.  I’m Cecilia–though, you already knew that.”

“I did,” Connor, answered, looking at her curiously.  Perhaps it was the fact she’d tried to go through normal introductions with their current circumstance was far from normal.

Connor surprised her by speaking up again before she did–apparently he was taking her need for a distraction seriously.

“You’re a journalist,” he stated simply, still keeping that calculating gaze on her.  She wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it, yet–she constantly felt like she was being carefully analyzed.

Maybe she was.

“Yeah, I’m an independent journalist.  I try to report the stuff the mainstream media is ignoring, or give the facts of a story when the mainstream media makes it biased or warps it to fit an agenda,” Cecilia explained, turning in her seat enough to face him.  Connor’s LED turned to a lazy yellow as he processed the information she was giving him.

“You believe the media corrupt?” Connor asked.  Probably not a point of view he’d expected to hear from a journalist.

“I believe that news should be told how it is with all the facts, not by leaving out the parts that make the story unflattering or don’t serve a purpose in furthering an agenda.  There’s too many coverups in todays mainstream media.”

“I see…” Connor murmured.  He was still processing her opinion, so she decided to give him a little help.

“You wanna see an example, watch the news coverage the next time you have a sensitive case.  Watch how many embellishments and pure speculations they put in, how many alarmist tactics they use, or how they warp the facts.  You’ll see what I mean.”

“And you try to publish unbiased, factual stories?”

“I try.  If something hits too close to home for me to be unbiased, I either don’t do the story or I take extra time to make sure I meet my unbiased standards.”  Cecilia switched the topic, hoping to turn the questioning towards Connor for a while.  She’d been questioned a lot in the past few hours, responsive or not, and knew she was going to have to answer even more soon.  She wanted to do the questioning for a little while.  “What about you, Connor?  You’re not like the other androids in the DPD–what’s your job?”

“I’ve been sent by Cyberlife to assist the DPD–Lieutenant Anderson, specifically–with investigations into any cases involving androids.”

Cecilia’s eyebrows rose.  “There must be quite a lot of cases popping up if Cyberlife is involving themselves.”

“I can’t discuss that with you.”  Connor’s words were stiff, formal–utterly professional.  She also wasn’t that surprised.

“I figured, it was just an observation.  So, android incidents…Like what happened not too long ago on that high-rise, with the little girl as a hostage?”

Connor looked over at her curiously.  “You heard about that?”

“Everyone heard about it.  We never heard what really happened, though.  Were you there?”

“I was, though I can’t discuss what happened.”

“Fair enough…” Cecilia returned, trying to suppress a chuckle.  She’d noticed his posture had changed, he was stiff, distant, on guard.  She had a feeling she knew what it was about.  “I’m not interviewing you, by the way.  Just so you know.  A lot of people get worried when they talk to a journalist, they’re worried about every word they say possibly ending up in a story.  If I’m planning on writing about what’s being said, I’ll tell you,” she reassured him.

Once again Connor’s gaze turned calculating, and she was left to wonder what was going on in his head.  Was he analyzing her every time he looked at her like that?  If so, why?

“Regardless, I can’t discuss sensitive information with a civilian, least of all a journalist,” he finally answered.

“What about a victim who wants to know what’s going on?” Cecilia probed, her voice a little more firm.  “I know you received this case thinking Markus attacked us, but even after getting the record straight you showed interest in him.  Why?”

Now he was definitely calculating and analyzing, his LED flashing rapidly as he processed his situation and options.  She could tell by the slight furrow of his brows, the look of concentration that had appeared on his face as she awaited an answer.

“Is your word good that you won’t try to publish anything if I tell you in confidence?  This is a sensitive investigation, and if details of the case get out before we’re ready, it could cause a panic,” Connor warned.  All of his attention was on Cecilia, who was listening to his terms and enduring his intense brown eyed gaze.

“I won’t write anything about an ongoing investigation–its one of my policies,” she answered honestly.

Whatever came out of Connor’s close scrutiny of her, seemed to pacify him, and he leaned back in his seat.  “It sounds like Markus was what we call a deviant.”

“Deviant?”

Connor nodded.  “An android that has some sort of unique malfunction, causing it to emulate human emotion and deviate from their programmed behavior.  So far, they’ve all showed outward signs of violence and irrational thinking–Markus is the first one we’ve heard of living peacefully with a family for an extended period of time.  And the fact he did not lash out tonight when there was violence against himself, and you and your father, makes the case all the more intriguing.  It also makes you a valuable asset to our case, as you were close to a deviant for such a long time, you could know something about them, how they think and operate, perhaps even how deviancy starts, and not even realize it.”

Cecilia frowned.  “Is deviancy really such a bad thing?”

Now it was Connor’s turn to fix her with a look of incredulousness.  “Most deviants have harmed or even killed humans.  And it’s a malfunction preventing them from fulfilling their purpose.”

Cecilia wasn’t convinced.  “Markus didn’t hurt anyone–he’s rather pacifist.  And if he’s been a deviant, I’m going to have to say it made him _better_ at taking care of my father…is it really that bad to empathize?”

“They’re machines.”

Connor’s excuse was so…simple, so easy to poke holes in after her time with Markus.  But at the same time, she understood he was simply adhering to his programming.  His programming told him deviants were bad and needed to be stopped, he needed to figure out how deviants operated so he could stop them.  That was his purpose.  He was going to stick with it.

She’d grown used to Markus.  She’d almost forgotten other androids weren’t where Markus was in terms of humanity.  She still tried to treat them all as human, or at least deserving of respect.

Cecilia finally turned away from Connor, her frown still clearly displayed on her face as she looked thoughtfully out the taxi window, contemplating this new bit of information about deviant androids.

She recognized where they were.

The taxi came to a gradual stop, the door opening on Connor’s side.

“We’re here,” he announced, looking over to see Cecilia hadn’t budged from her seat, a slight tremble in her hands.  She could feel her heart starting to beat faster in her chest, telling her she’d run out of time, and she already had to face what had happened tonight.  She’d have to go back in there and see–

A careful brush against her shoulder pulled Cecilia from her thoughts, and she turned to see Connor watching her in concern.

“If you’re not ready to return to the crime scene tonight, you can head home, instead.”

Cecilia shook her head.  “No…No, I promised to help.  And I need to see this through.  Markus and my dad both deserve some justice,” she murmured, shifting in her seat.

Connor didn’t look entirely convinced, but he got out of the taxi first, helping her climb out in her ruined evening dress–

 _Don’t look at it,_ she reprimanded herself sharply.  She wanted to hold back another breakdown as long as possible, so she was going to try and stay detached from what was happening as long as possible, try to shut out all of the emotion that wanted to burst out of her chest.

“Walk me through what happened tonight,” Connor ordered, though his voice was patient and gentle despite the order.  He knew she was struggling.  It seemed they were going to do this at her pace.

“Right…well, Markus helped my father inside, and I came in behind them.  It was still raining, so we were in a bit of a rush to get inside…”

Cecilia’s heels clicked against the pavement as they made their way to the house.  She stopped Connor from trying to walk in first, opening the door to hear the usual pleasant voice.

“Alarm deactivated.  Welcome home, Cecilia.”

Connor stepped through when Cecilia held the door open for him, taking in the artistical and luxurious décor.  “We were only in here long enough to put the umbrella away–after that, we went straight to the living room, cause my dad wanted a drink.  That’s when we noticed the lights on in the studio, and Dad told Markus to call the police.”

Cecilia ushered Connor into the room, moving over by the studio door and watching as he continued to scope out his surroundings with the same analytical expression on his face.  He was focused, in his element, doing what he was made to do.

Cecilia saw him pause just briefly by the drink table, fingers brushing against a still-full glass of scotch.

She tried not to think of how it was never going to be finished, how he never got that last real drink he’d playfully asked Markus for.

“Did you all go in together?” Connor asked, standing where Markus had stood and looking over in the general direction Cecilia and her father had been.

“No.  Dad wanted to come investigate with us, but Markus went in first to make sure there wasn’t a hostile threat.  When we didn’t hear a fight break out or any gunshots, then me and my dad came in, as well.”

Connor finally moved in her direction, pausing just shy of the studio’s door.  “Are you ready?”

_No, never, especially not so soon._

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she asked with a weak attempt at a smile.  Again, Connor wasn’t convinced, and she felt his sharp gaze on her as well as the crime scene as they both stepped into the studio.

Cecilia instantly turned away from the room, closing her eyes and trying to breathe, fingers clenching into the doorframe as she kept her face angled away from Connor and the room, towards the corner where Markus had made his painting.

There was still thirium all over the floor.  There was also still signs of the fight, but it was the _thirium_ that was causing the strong reaction.  She couldn’t bear to look at it.

She heard Connor take a step in her direction, but she waved him off, pointing by memory towards the table Leo had been at when they entered.

“Leo was there, looking at paintings he was going to take to try and sell,” she continued gruffly.  The sooner she gave an explanation, the sooner she could get out of this room.  “From there, it’s just like I said in the interrogation room.  I’m sorry, but I need some air,” she finished hurriedly, voice strained as she swept out of the room.  She could feel the emotions rushing to the surface, dragging the suppressed memories with them, all because of the thirium on the floor.

* * *

 

_*Connor’s POV*_

Connor watched Cecilia rush out of the room like she’d been shocked, a small flicker of concern appearing on his face before he turned back to the studio.

She’d tried to assure him that she’d been ready to return to the crime scene, though her vitals had increased as they’d come closer and closer to the studio, telling Connor otherwise.  He’d let her have her moment to gather herself and do some investigating in her absence.

Everything was still undisturbed from how the police had found it, besides the bodies of Carl Manfred and the android Markus, but he could still work with what was here and Cecilia’s statement at the DPD.

A quick scope of the area provided evidence of the fight.  Obviously there was the knocked over shelf that had spilled paint and other supplies everywhere.  Closer inspection revealed some dried blood–Cecilia’s he was able to tell after a quick sample–where she’d hit her head, and a palmprint in one of the paint messes showed Leo Manfred’s fingerprints.  There were scuff marks on the floor from Cecilia’s heels and boots he could deduce belonged to Leo.  A quick reconstruction showed him the altercation–how Cecilia had rammed into Leo from the side, knocking him into the shelf and tipping it over, followed by the brief altercation that led to her being thrown down into the shelf.

There were more scuff marks from a wheelchair skidding across the room.  An earlier event, when Leo just started to get violent after refusing to leave.  He’d started pushing Markus after that, and Connor could in fact see more scuffs on the ground from the android’s shoes.

On and on he went, following the path of the altercation in moments, able to process the information much faster than a human.  He found himself standing in front of one of the wooden tables, a few indents in the shape of a hand showing Markus had shown outward signs of anger, but held himself back, as Cecilia had attested.

This was after Cecilia had been pushed, which meant it was about the time Carl Manfred fell out of his wheelchair…

Connor walked over to where the thirium was still visible, kneeling down in front of one of the larger pools.  Here the android had been accused of Leo’s crimes, and was shot and destroyed.

Connor carefully dipped two fingers in the thirium, lifting the blue blood to his lips to analyze it.  Markus’ model was unknown, an unregistered prototype, and not in Connor’s database.

But, thanks to Cecilia, he could now register it as thirium belonging to the RK200 model Markus.

A wild shout of distress caused Connor’s attention to snap away from his investigation and back to the present.  In real time it had only been a few moments, but it had still been long enough for Cecilia Manfred to lose her battle for self-control.

In a few quick, easy steps Connor was able to leave the studio and make his way back to the foyer, where he found Cecilia Manfred on the ground, one hand clutching to the edge of the foyer’s vanity, the other wiping furiously at the thirium and fast-flowing tears on her face.

The nights events were catching up to her.  She was having an emotional breakdown.

The woman was sobbing heavily, her attempts to wipe away the tears and thirium (which covered not only her face, but arms, neck, hair, and dress as well) only resulting in smearing them across her skin.  “Get it _off_ , get it _off_ ,” she begged between choppy breaths.

For a few seconds, Connor was at a loss for how to handle the situation.

* * *

 

_*Cecilia POV*_

All it had taken was one look in the mirror and Cecilia had shattered.

She was covered in Markus’ blood.  She hadn’t realized it until she saw herself, disheveled from the fight with Leo and covered in thirium.  _Markus’_ thirium.

_Bang!_

_“MARKUS!”_

_His body arched with the force of the shot, blue spraying into the air as Markus crumpled to the ground like a marionette, shot down like a martyr, no, like a statistic.  Just another android._

_But he wasn’t just another android, he was her brother, her father’s_ _son, and the cops had just shot him in front of her without hesitation.  He disappeared faster than a shooting star, her scream starting before he hit the ground but continuing well after the LED went dark and he stopped moving._

_Shot in cold blood right in front of her, first her father then her brother._

The thirium burned her skin–not physically, she knew thirium couldn’t do that, and yet it _burned_ , it felt filthy, and she just wanted it gone as everything inside her finally crumpled under the weight of watching both of them die.  Her scream from earlier returned, but she didn’t even realize the sound had called Connor into the room–she’d forgotten he was there.

And now she couldn’t stop the tears, the pain, the memory of her father falling out of the chair,  _“Dad!”_ , Markus’ tear soaked face the second before the gun went off, _the blood_ –

Someone gently but firmly grasped her wrists.

* * *

 

_*Connor POV*_

Connor knelt beside Cecilia, holding to her wrists in an attempt to stop the frantic movements as she tried to get rid of the thirium and to stop her from accidentally hurting herself.

“That’s not going to help,” Connor told her firmly when she looked up at him.  He pulled her up to her feet, the woman leaning into him for support as she continued to cry.  “Where’s the nearest sink?”

Cecilia’s body instinctively leaned towards a door on their left, close to the entrance to the living room, and Connor carefully guided them in that direction, hands still grasping her wrists and pulling her to his side for stability.  Once they’d reached the sink, Connor ran cold water, helping Cecilia lean over the sink before starting to wash the thirium from her hands and arms.  The cold water helped to snap her enough to her senses she didn’t slip back into shock, and after a few more moments she was washing the thirium from her face herself while Connor held her hair back, eyes glancing around the room in search of a towel.

“There’s some in your hair,” he murmured once she’d successfully cleaned her skin of the thirium.  She leaned deeper into the sink, pulling her hair over her head and attempting to wash the thirium from there, as well.  As the chestnut brown of her hair darkened to a near-black, the thirium finally gone from all surfaces except her dress–which couldn’t be helped, for now–she started to quietly sob into the sink.

Connor left her side only momentarily to grab the closest towel, pulling back her hair once more and attempting to dry it.

She cried for at least five minutes, hunched over the sink until her sobs began to subside, and she reached back for the towel.  Connor relinquished it, watching her closely as she dried off her arms, hands, and finally her face.  She was quiet a few moments longer, elbows braced against the sink’s edge as she focused on her breathing.  Finally, there was only a slight tremble to her shoulders and hands, and her tears slowed–they didn’t stop, but they slowed.

“I’m done, if you would like to leave,” Connor ventured.

“Please.”

Her response came out in an almost whisper, accompanied by a sniffle as she stood up straight, still braced against the sink.  Connor took a step closer, ready to help if he needed to, though Cecilia moved away on her own, though her movements were slow.  They only made it as far as the foyer before Cecilia stopped in her tracks, nearly bumping into Connor as she turned sharply around.

“Wait–wait, I need…I should probably get my dad’s will before I leave.  And…and I need to have that painting.”

Connor looked at the woman in confusion.  The will, he understood–there was probably going to be some conflict over her father’s estate.  But a painting..?

“I’m going to call a taxi–you’ve got time,” he informed her.  Cecilia nodded.

“I’ll get the painting, could you…its in my dad’s room upstairs, hidden under the creepy looking cat.”

The will.  There was some advantage to having Connor go and get the will–he could see it before she came into contact with it, and confirm her claim her father had left the estate to her, so Leo couldn’t argue she’d tampered with the will.

“Got it.”

Making sure she wasn’t about to faint or anything like that with one last vitals scan, Connor made his way upstairs while Cecilia disappeared into the living room, making the call for the taxi on the way up.  There was only one room upstairs, so it was easy to find her father’s room.  His gaze went right over the medications on the nightstand, the paintings in the room, the sketches, antiquities, and eventually landed on a feline figure he supposed was the one Cecilia had called _creepy_.

Just as she’d said, the will was hidden under the cat, a single page folded up and waiting to be read.  Connor allowed himself enough of a peek at the will to confirm Cecilia had been left with everything before making his way back to the foyer.  Cecilia was waiting for him, a rolled up canvas in her hands, hair still damp, looking exhausted.  Connor handed her the will once he reached the bottom of the stairs, leading the way out the door.  Cecilia weaved slightly as they waited for the taxi, and Connor instinctively reached out to steady her.

“What’s your address?” Connor asked.  He doubted Cecilia was going to make it through the taxi drive.

She mumbled out an address, including an apartment number, but otherwise didn’t speak, clutching to the will and the painting with an almost desperate quality.

Connor kept his eye on her while they waited, watching her vitals and any physical signals she gave to her current state of being.  When the taxi arrived, he let her get in first, helping her keep steady and making sure she got into the vehicle with her belongings without much difficulty.

As he’d suspected, she fell asleep minutes into the drive.


	5. Reports

_*Connor POV*_

When they arrived at Cecilia’s apartment, Connor stopped just short of waking the woman up, a hand hovering in the air above her shoulder.  She was exhausted by the day’s events, and she needed to get as much rest as possible considering there would be more for her to do in the morning in order to move the case forward.  Waking her seemed like it would have a negative impact on her health and her case, even if it was slight.  However, he wanted her at optimal capacity.  He wouldn’t wake her.

After a few fleeting moments of contemplation over how to proceed, Connor gathered Cecilia, the will, and the painting into his arms and headed into the apartment building.  With the address she’d given him, complete with an apartment number, he was able to find her apartment on the top floor of the five story building.

Using Cecilia’s hand to enter the apartment–managing still not to wake her–Connor stepped through the doorway, doing a quick scan of his surroundings to figure out where he needed to go.

Cecilia’s apartment was open, only one door–besides the main entrance–leading to a closed off room.  In the L shaped section of the house before him, the living room and office shared the longer space directly in front of him, a sectional couch signaling where the living room ended and the office began.  To his right, in the smaller part of the initial room, was the kitchen.  It’s beginning was signaled by a marble kitchen island, and he could see a small dining table just beyond it.

There was an accent table by the door with a few personal belongings tossed haphazardly across the surface.  Figuring Cecilia used the space as a catch-all when she walked in the door, Connor temporarily deposited the painting and will on it’s surface as well while he took Cecilia to her bedroom.

Situated between the office and living room was the only other door in this part of the apartment besides the entry, so it must have led to her bedroom.

The door slid open automatically as he approached–much like the doors in her father’s house–allowing him access to the cozy chamber.  This room was also L shaped, though on a much smaller scale, the shorter part of the room acting as a foyer of sorts.  He noted her dresser as soon as he stepped through the door, but continued forward, turning the corner to find her bed.  There was a closet directly across from the bed, and to Connor’s right there was another sliding door he supposed led to a master bathroom.

With the general layout of the house already stored in his memory, Connor carefully laid Cecilia atop her bed, deducing he should probably get her changed so she didn’t have to sleep in an evening gown that was undoubtedly uncomfortable.  His footsteps were silent across the carpeted flooring as he moved around, searching her dresser for sleepwear.  The calm blue of his LED and the identifying marks on his jacket was the only light in the room, Cecilia still deeply asleep as he returned and started to get her changed into the grey fleece pajamas he’d discovered.

Once he’d finished, he discovered where she kept her worn clothes, discarding the evening dress in the basket hidden in her closet before returning to tuck her in under the covers.  Cecilia was a lightweight when she was asleep, easily moved and manipulated where he wanted her to go, so it wasn’t much of a fight to get her under the voluminous comforter.

With Cecilia now at home asleep in her bed, Connor quietly left her room, hovering for a moment a few steps from the bedroom door as he decided what to do next.

He could look around, just a little, to get a sense of the woman.

Or he could leave now, and try to get to Cyberlife for an in-person report before having to start the day.

It was almost 5 a.m.–there wasn’t much time before the day would begin, and he didn’t yet know when Lieutenant Anderson would be arriving at the station.  He might lose time traveling between Cecilia’s home, Cyberlife Tower, and the DPD.

Deciding he’d linger a little longer to see what he could learn about his investigation’s first human person of interest, Connor let himself examine the apartment a little closer this time.

The bedroom had been closer quarters, with dark red carpet and ebony paneling, black furniture–including the modern styled bed and the nightstands on either side of her bed, dark comforters with an abundance of pillows, and a few pictures and trinkets for décor atop her dresser.  He’d noted there had been two windows in her room, but the curtains had been drawn.

This part of her apartment, however, was open, sleek, and crisp.  The carpet was a pale aqua, the walls a clear opal.  Her office was a large section of clear space with a table in the center, a rolling chair facing the floor to ceiling window that stretched the entire west wall, drawn black curtains currently shutting out the lights of the city.  The only other pieces of furniture in that part of the room were small pink sakuras on either side of the window and a white pine bookshelf.  The desk had a tablet, some papers, and a laptop lying on its surface, showing she’d been working on something recently.

The living room part of the apartment was also furnished to a minimalist point, with a white sectional complete with a few black pillows, a sandalwood coffee table, and a television monitor mounted to the wall.  A dark blue throw blanket was bundled up and tossed haphazardly into the corner of the couch closest to the front door.  There was also an opened case of Oreos half-finished on the coffee table.

Connor couldn’t help but idly wonder why she didn’t own a cleaning android.  She seemed perfectly comfortable in the presence of Androids, so it couldn’t be that…

He also noticed some of the décor of her apartment seemed to be expensive for an independent journalist’s wages…the money may have come from her father.

Making his way over to the accent table that he’d deposited the will and painting on, earlier, Connor retrieved both, allowing himself a quick glance at the letters spread across the accent table.  A few bills–most already paid–an announcement of her father’s retrospective…

A job offer for Channel 16 News as a broadcast journalist, with an interview scheduled for November eighth.  Was she considering a career change?  She’d seemed rather passionate about her job in the car, so perhaps at the moment it was just an offer on the table.

Connor made his way to Cecilia’s office space, depositing the will on Cecilia’s desk before making his way to the kitchen.  His shoes clicked against the white marbled floor as he approached the round dining table, gaze flickering over to see a kitchen with just the necessities–a few black cabinets, counters, a refrigerator, stove, microwave, coffee maker…

There was a soft rustle of paper as Connor unrolled the painting Cecilia had retrieved from her father’s house, expecting it to perhaps be one of her father’s rare artworks.  He at least knew rolling an artwork on canvas was supposed to be, ideally, a temporary form of storage, and the best thing to do was lay it out flat until Cecilia decided what she was going to do with it.

He was surprised to find the painting before him did not match the style of the rest of the paintings in her father’s house.  And it looked relatively new.  Connor tilted his head to the side, observing the piece before him.

A black background, two pairs of hands, one glowing red, the other glowing blue.

_…he actually painted an original piece with emotion and meaning.  He told me when he made it he was thinking of humanity…_

_Empathy…_

_Software Instability._

* * *

 

_*Cecilia POV*_

Cecilia didn’t get to gradually came back to the land of the living.  She was jolted awake by the grating and familiar sound of her alarm piercing through her tired brain.

She couldn’t help but notice she wasn’t entirely sure how her horrible night had ended.  Which ended up being rather important, as she was extremely confused to find herself surrounded by the warm comfort of her bed’s blankets.

Plus, she wasn’t in the constricting evening gown she’d been wearing all last night, but one of her warmest pairs of pajamas.

She didn’t remember coming home, didn’t remember getting changed, or getting into bed.  The last thing she remembered…

Being in the taxi with Connor.

Cecilia reached over and slapped the alarm off with a groan, forcing herself to keep moving so she didn’t accidentally fall asleep again, purely on instinct.  She was already halfway hanging off the bed when she remembered that she’d earned a day or two off after what had happened.

Too late–she was already uncomfortable and more awake by the second with each throb of her head.

It was going to be a pain meds day.

Cecilia jerked upright on her bed when she heard her door open, propping herself up on her elbows and twisting her body to see who was entering.  She would have tried to find a weapon within reaching distance as well if she hadn’t been hit with a wave of vertigo.

She sat up way too fast, too soon.

Thankfully, the intruder made themselves known, and it wasn’t a burglar.  She recognized the voice.

“I apologize–I was not aware you had any alarms set.  Otherwise I would have deactivated them so you could sleep.”

“Connor,” Cecilia murmured, faceplanting in the pillow until her vertigo passed.  “What’re y’doin here?” she asked, voice muffled by the pillow.  Thankfully, he understood every word.

“You fell asleep in the taxi, and I evaluated that waking you up would not help your condition, as you need all the rest you can get.  So I brought you inside and put you to bed while you slept.”

Oh…

_Oh!_

Cecilia felt her cheeks burn as she realized he’d been the one to change her out of her dress, that news overshadowing the entire fact he’d carried her into her home and tucked her in bed.  Understandably.

Connor’s voice pierced through her brief embarrassed panic, his question making her wonder if he could detect her vital signs or something like that.

“Would you rather I had woken you?”

“Maybe for the changing clothes part,” Cecilia mumbled, finally sitting up in bed.

“I observed that the dress was uncomfortable, and concluded you’d sleep better in something else.  I wasn’t aware you would be…unsettled by me changing you, I apologize.”  He paused as Cecilia flipped around, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.  “If it makes you feel better, I did not look anywhere other than your face and legs.”

Cecilia waved her hand dismissively.  “Oh, just forget about it.  It’s too late now, and it’s not like it’s going to be a problem in the future,” she sighed, getting up with a stretch.

If Connor had been human, or rather, displayed more human characteristics, she would have been more bothered by his unexpected stay without her knowledge.  Of course, it was still unsettling, even a little creepy to think he’d just been out there, waiting; but she also knew he really _wasn’t_ going to try anything.

Connor frowned as she shuffled over to her closet–she caught the expression out of the corner of her eyes as she fumbled blindly for something to wear.

“It has only been four hours and eleven minutes since you fell asleep in the taxi.  We do not have to return to the Police Department for another hour and a half, at least.  I strongly suggest trying to get a little more sleep–”

“Connor, if I get back in that bed, I’m not going to get up a second time,” Cecilia told him honestly, throwing a random blouse and some dark brown dress pants on the bed before shuffling off to the bathroom.  She was tempted to take a long bath to sooth her still-tired body, but she worried she’d just fall back asleep.  A shower it was, then.  “Besides, I can use the time to get ready,” she said, barely stifling a yawn.

Cecilia took her sweet time in the shower, staying under the steaming hot jets until the water started to run cold.  After that it was just a matter of the mundane:  hair brushed, teeth brushed, deodorant and perfume applied, makeup, hair styled–a tight all-business updo with a hair chopstick right down the center, matching jewelry for the fancy burgundy ruched V-neck wraparound blouse she’d grabbed out of her closet–she only knew so much about clothing styles because she’d started her career with a fashion column, a pair of black flats because she refused to suffer in heels today…

Finally presentable, Cecilia headed for the kitchen, glancing at the time on her way there.

9:15–Connor would want to be leaving, soon.

Connor was standing idly in her office when she left her room, the curtains drawn back so he could look down on the city while he waited.  Hearing her enter the room, however, he looked up.

“You look better,” he commented.  She forgave him for implying she’d looked terrible a while ago–the brutal honesty of androids who didn’t know any better.  And she knew she looked like The Thing in the mornings.

“A nice hot shower and make-up will do wonders.  As will coffee, once I have some,” she stated, noticing how he followed her into the kitchen now that she was no longer going about her daily routine.

She had to do a double take when she saw Markus’ painting lying flat on the table, eyes stinging for a moment before she looked away.

It was still fresh.  She wasn’t sure how long it was going to take her to recover from their deaths, but in the meantime she’d have to keep a brave face and stay in one piece enough to function.  She couldn’t afford any more breakdowns like last night.

At least Connor had been willing and able to help her through that one.

Speaking of Connor, she felt a twinge of appreciation he’d taken the time to lay the painting out–she would have done it herself if she hadn’t been out cold.

And he was currently following her into the kitchen, LED flickering yellow just briefly as he watched what kind of coffee she was making for herself.

A Caffe Mocha.  She usually just added extra chocolate, but she knew she was going to need more of a boost today, so she added an extra espresso shot as well.

While she waited for her coffee, she looked over at the silent vigil that was Connor, currently.  She wanted to know why he’d stayed at her apartment all night.

“Did you have to be anywhere last night?” she asked curiously, noting how quickly his attention snapped to her as soon as she addressed him.

Connor’s head tilted to the side, gaze sliding briefly in the same direction before returning to meet her eyes.  “Normally, I would return to Cyberlife Tower.  However, I determined making the trips back and forth between here, Cyberlife, and the DPD would take up too much time, and simply made a report and stayed here.  I will be making the trip tonight, however.”

“Ah…”  So it was convenience, then.

“Yesterday you spoke about how much you enjoyed being an independent journalist, and about your beliefs that the media is corrupt,” Connor observed, surprising Cecilia by continuing the conversation.  Cecilia hummed, prompting him to continue.  “Yet you have an interview with Channel 16 to be a broadcast journalist?”

Cecilia’s eyebrows rose substantially.  “So you didn’t just make a report and wait all night, did you?”

“I explored.  It’s in my programing to investigate my surroundings,” Connor returned, and Cecilia could have sworn she heard some defensiveness in his tone.

“Sure it is,” she hummed.  “Yes, I’ve got the interview, but I’m not sure I want to take the job.  I’m happy where I am, and as you recall, I _do_ think there’s a problem of corruption in mainstream media.  But I also figured it wouldn’t hurt to do the interview and see what they have to say.”

“Your coffee is at the optimal temperature,” Connor noted suddenly, prompting her to turn away momentarily to grab her mug–she’d made it in a travel mug just to be safe.  “This is also quite a well-furnished apartment for an independent journalist’s average wages.”

Someone needed to do a tune up on his small talk.  Or he needed to get that deviancy bug Markus had to make him better at it.

“My father helped me out when I moved in.  It drove him nuts that I picked such a small space, but it was all I needed.  When it came time to decorate, we went through, looked at everything I wanted and needed, I paid for what I could without going bankrupt–mostly all the necessity stuff–and he swooped in with the difference.  He claimed it was his housewarming gift to me so I couldn’t turn him down.”

“Why would you say no to your father’s assistance?”

“I’ve always wanted to be self-sustained.  Especially with how often Leo would show up asking for money.  I didn’t want him paying for everything–I wanted to do as much as I could on my own, to feel like I could rely on myself if I needed to.”  Cecilia straightened as she remembered something.  “Speaking of, I can see where you put the painting–where did you put my father’s will?” Cecilia asked him.  Connor didn’t even break his focus from her.  At least he was attentive, unlike most humans.

“It’s on your desk.  I calculated you’d be most likely to see it there.”

“You’re probably right,” she admitted with a small shrug, grabbing her travel mug and taking a long sip of the caffeinated liquid before stepping around the island.  “Well, I’m ready as I’ll ever be–shall we get going?”

* * *

 

_*Connor’s POV*_

“There’s still some paperwork to be done, including filing the official police report.  The DPD parts have been finished, mostly.  You just need to fill out the official statement and a few other technical forms before we proceed.”

It was 9:56 a.m. by the time Connor and Cecilia had arrived at the DPD.  Lieutenant Anderson had yet to arrive, but Connor was able to supply Cecilia with the forms she still needed to fill out for her case to move forward.  He was currently offering the tablet with said forms to her, watching as she took the tablet gingerly into her hands.

“How much is a few?”

Connor’s lips quirked towards an amused smile, though the expression was erased from his features as quickly as it had appeared.  “The standard time for completing these forms is fifteen minutes.  It should not keep you long.”

Cecilia nodded, though Connor picked up on the disdainful look she was still giving the tablet.  “Do you want me to fill it out here, or…”

She gestured towards Lieutenant Anderson’s desk, which stood a few paces behind Connor.  He didn’t know much about the Lieutenant, but he had a suspicion that the irritable man would not like his desk being borrowed by a stranger.

“There’s a break room right over there with tables and chairs–and coffee should you need more.  You should also find yourself relatively undisturbed in there,” Connor told her.  He hadn’t yet explored the room, but he had seen the sign and passed the space a few times in this short time he’d been with the DPD, so he was able to point her in the right direction.

Cecilia nodded, already turning in that direction.  “Thank you, Connor.  This shouldn’t take me too long…hopefully,” she finished with a mutter, though before Connor could remind her of the average completion time, she’d already walked away.

He was sure with her career in journalism it wouldn’t take her long to complete the forms.

Once Cecilia had left, Connor turned to the Lieutenant’s desk, picking up the headphones sitting on the far end of the desk.

It would certainly help the investigation if he learned more about the man he was going to be working with, at least enough to make working with him a little easier…

Connor had already done a thorough search of the Lieutenant’s desk without rifling through the drawers when he spotted him approaching, straightening up as he came closer.

“It’s good to see you again, Lieutenant,” Connor greeted with a smile.  Hank stopped short upon seeing Connor standing by his desk, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, Jesus…”

“Hank!  In my office,” Captain Fowler called before anything more could be said.  Obvious annoyance flashed across Hank’s face before he started a reluctant walk towards the Captain’s office.  Connor watched Hank walk away for a few seconds, debating if he was going to follow him or not.

There was still more of the office to explore.  And he could check on Cecilia to see how her progress with the forms was coming, and if she needed any assistance.

Connor’s gaze roamed over the rest of the open office space, skipping over the android officers, the other human officers at their desks, and falling on a magazine sitting out in the open.

The cover had a picture of Cecilia’s father, announcing his death.

Without really thinking about what he was doing, Connor went over to the magazine and quickly swiped a finger over the surface to change it to something else before continuing on.

He didn’t want Cecilia to see it.

_Software Instability._

Connor squinted slightly at the pop up as he walked towards the break room.  He didn’t know why it was appearing.  All he’d done was switch a magazine cover.

And last night all he’d done was look at a painting–and that warning had been a little more profound.

Connor stepped into the break room, taking a quick inventory of his surroundings.  The television was on, tuned to one of the main news stations, Cecilia was a few steps off to his right, and behind him was–

“Fuck, look at that.  Our friend the plastic detective is back in town.”  Connor turned around as Detective Reed started a slow clap.  “Congratulations on last night, very impressive.”

“Hello, Detective Reed,” Connor replied calmly.  The Detective straightened, drumming his fingers against the table for a moment before approaching Connor.  Out of the corner of his eyes, Connor saw Cecilia look up from what she was doing, something akin to what she’d looked at her half-brother with yesterday flashing in her eyes.

He didn’t know why she had that expression–perhaps she’d picked up on a human subtlety he was not familiar with, yet.

“Never seen an android like you before…” the detective said slowly, glancing down at Connor’s jacket.  “What model are you?”

Cecilia’s expression soured, but she didn’t say anything, and Connor answered the detective patiently.  “RK800.  I’m a prototype.”

“A prototype,” Gavin echoed before turning to the officer he’d been sitting with, gesturing to Connor.  “Android detective.  So machines are gonna…replace us all, is that it?” Gavin asked, turning back to Connor.

“Hey…bring me a coffee, dipshit.”

Connor blinked, taken aback by the request–at the very least, the tone with which it was made.  He heard a chair squeal as Cecilia stood up.

“Get a move on!” Gavin barked when Connor didn’t immediately move.  Before Connor could decide if he was going to accept or not, Cecilia appeared at his side, looking at Gavin with an expression of…pity?

“If you gotta pick on an android to feel like you’ve got a big dick, it must be pretty damn small–you might wanna get that checked,” Cecilia said with so much sincerity it sounded like the truth, though Connor caught a glimpse of that malicious glint in her eyes.

“What the fuck did you say to me?” Gavin asked incredulously.  Cecilia ignored him, placing a gentle hand on Connor’s shoulder.

_Software Instability._

“Hey, Connor, I’ve almost got all of this done, but there’s this one part that’s giving me trouble, could you help me with it?” she asked, gently nudging him towards the hall.

_Software Instability._

“Hey, don’t try and make off with it, I gave it an order, I expect it to follow it.  Hey, I’m talking to you,” Gavin fumed, reaching out to grab her arm when she continued to ignore him.

_Software Instability._

Before Gavin could touch her, Cecilia turned to face him, her words sharp as a whip.  “You lay one hand on me, you _will_ lose your badge, understand me?”

_Software Instability._

The venom in her words was enough to make Gavin step back, and Cecilia pushed Connor with a gentle firmness out into the hall before the detective had the chance to gather his wits and try again.


	6. Cornered Animal

_*Cecilia’s POV*_

Once they were back among the mess of desks in the main office, Connor broke the silence that had crept up between them.  “You said you needed assistance?”

Cecilia gave Connor a sheepish smile.  “Actually, I’m done.  I just said that to get you away from…him.”

Connor’s LED flickered yellow as he processed the new information and the context it brought to her actions in the break room.  “I see…”

Cecilia offered him the tablet.  “I won’t go quite yet.  I want to talk to Leo, first.”

Connor frowned, though he did take the tablet from her.  At least all that paperwork was finished.  “Why would you want to speak with him?  I was under the impression you did not wish to be near him?”

“Call it a need for closure, or wanting to get a few words in before saying _so long_.”

Connor studied her a few moments before gesturing in the direction she needed to go.  “The holding cells are behind Captain Fowler’s office.  You’ll be able to talk to him without going into his cell.”

Cecilia gave Connor a small smile, though her heart wasn’t entirely in it.  She was going to talk to Leo because she knew she needed to for some sense of closure, not because she was ready.

She cast a glance towards Lieutenant Anderson, who looked like he was in time out with his arms folded across his chest, a scowl fixated across his face.  It didn’t look like he was in a good mood, so she doubted she wanted to be around much longer, anyway.

“Thank you, Connor.”  Giving the android detective a small nod, Cecilia made her way through the muddle of desks and behind the main glass office that overlooked the detective and Lieutenant desks.  Just as Connor had informed her, the holding cells were there waiting.

The first held a man who was stubbornly keeping his back to the cell entrance, huddled over in his seat.  He wasn’t Leo, though.

“Jesus, now what?  Came to gloat some more?”

He was in the next one over.

Cecilia did her best to keep her expression neutral, a muscle jumping in her jaw when she saw the cell he was being kept in had a foreboding pool of blue blood smeared down the front, suggesting an android had died in there.  Leo was glaring at her from just off to the side, though, so she was able to avert her eyes and look instead at the instigator behind her suppressed trauma.

“I just filed the report–about what actually happened.  I might not be able to get you for anything more than destruction of property with Markus, but with everything else…it’s a great start for some actual justice,” Cecilia said tersely.

“You can’t fucking do this to me–”

“I just did,” Cecilia returned sharply.  Leo slammed a fist against the glass, and Cecilia cursed herself for jumping.  There was a cell wall between them, Leo wasn’t going to do anything to her–he couldn’t.

“I’m gonna get out of here eventually, and when I do–”

“What are you gonna do, Leo?  Go on, make the threat, give me something else to pin you with,” Cecilia snapped back, though this time pain laced her furious tone.  “You already got our father killed, got Markus killed, got yourself locked up for who knows how long, and I’m not gonna lie, _traumatized_ me.  What are you going to add to all of that, huh?”

That shut him up.  At least for the moment.

“Good luck in jail, Leo.  At least you’ll have plenty of time to adjust,” she finished once it was clear he have a threat for her.  She turned on her heel, barely starting to walk away before Leo found some courage now that she wasn’t facing him and was already on her way out.

“Y’know, dad should’ve just given me some damn cash–it wasn’t that hard.  Helped his son out like any good father would have done.  I owe people cash, and I can’t pay them in here!  There gonna be looking for money!” Leo shouted after Cecilia.  She forced herself to keep walking.

His earlier threats held no real danger, this was no different.  He didn’t want to go to jail, and he wanted to continue with his drug habit, uninterrupted.

He was going to have to deal with disappointment on both fronts.

“Cecilia?”

She looked up when she heard Connor’s voice say her name.  She’d left the holding cells on the side closest to Hank’s desk, which put her on a crash course towards the two detectives.  Except, Hank wasn’t at his desk anymore, which just left a slightly disheveled Connor in her path.

“I’m done,” Cecilia said simply before he could ask if she’d gotten the closure she’d wanted or any other inquiries along those lines.  After that short conversation with Leo, she wasn’t entirely sure herself why she’d decided to see Leo.  What had she expected, a clear cut answer as to why he did what he did?  She knew why already, and it didn’t make what happened any better.

“I guess that means I just go back to life as I knew it until I get a call, am I right?” Cecilia continued with a small sigh, eyes raking over Connor’s unusually untidy appearance, even if it was only slight.  She reached out on an impulse and fixed his jacket, flipping the collar so it stood up again, smoothing the fabric over his chest back down in one swift motion.

Markus had shown up looking disheveled after protesters got their hands on him a few times, it must have been instinct to fix an android’s disturbed clothes by now.

Connor’s LED flickered colors too fast for Cecilia to see whether it had turned yellow or red or both at the contact, the android detective watching her a little closer than normal for several heartbeats before he said a simple, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said with a slight quirk of her lips, already walking away.  She had her head turned to continue addressing him, though.  “It was nice meeting you Connor.  I hope you find…”

She was about to say what he was looking for, but hesitated when she realized that was deviants–androids like Markus, for the most part.  She stopped, turning to face him completely.

“I hope you find what you need,” she said instead, giving him a parting smile before she turned back around and left the DPD.

* * *

Home.  Cecilia was already making plans as she climbed the stairs, taking the time to wear herself out so she could try to sleep despite the espresso she’d consumed like her own personal red ice earlier.

She’d kick off her shoes and just face plant into that bed, sleep for several hours–maybe the whole day if she could manage it.  She’d aim for being asleep long enough for it to be classified as a coma.  Shut out the world for a solid 24 hours before she had to function again and face the world…

There was a soft beep as Cecilia opened the door to her apartment, stepping through and depositing her travel mug on the accent table with the half-assed promise to herself that she’d deal with it later.

The door shut with a hiss of air behind her a split second before she heard a foreign click from something deeper in her house.

She wasn’t alone.

And basic instinct was suddenly telling her she was in danger.

“Don’t move–” A deep voice commanded.  Cecilia only moved her eyes to look at the two men in her apartment, one lanky with a nervous twitch that reminded her of Leo, and the other shorter, more portly–though she didn’t dare think it wasn’t muscle.  “We need to talk to you about your brother and some…finances.  We don’t wanna make a mess of that pretty little face of yours.”

The portly one had a gun trained at her.

_What was it she’d heard in movies?  Heel of palm to nose, groin shots, momentum forward over the shoulder…_

The door behind her had already slid shut, and she’d be a sitting duck if she tried to go back out of the apartment.

_Don’t look where you’re thinking, don’t give them the forewarning._

“Now, we already found this little will of your fathers, which means you’re officially a wealthy woman.  We know you can afford to pay your brother’s debts, easily.”

 _I am not going to_ bail _out my half-brother–this is his mess, not mine.  And I’m sure as hell not gonna get shot over his issues._

Hoping the one with the gun wasn’t some expert marksman, Cecilia threw herself at her kitchen island, grabbing the opposite side with her hands and pulling with all of her strength.  There was a gunshot as she toppled over the edge, falling to the kitchen floor hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs.  Despite her gasps for air, she reached up and grabbed the edge of her silverware drawer, ripping it open and grabbing blindly where her knives were.

“Oh, we’ve got a feisty one!” one of the men jeered as they moved to corner her.  Something sliced through her hand, so she tightened her grip on it, pulling out a steak knife as the lanky thug stepped into her kitchen.  Cecilia staggered to her feet, throwing herself at him and lashing out with the knife in her hand.  She felt it sink into something solid–her attacker, hopefully–and pulled it back as the man fingers dug into and scratched across her face, eliciting a scream of pain from Cecilia as she stabbed again, higher this time.  Again, she felt the knife sink into something solid, though this time there was a warm spray to go with it, and she flinched back.

Another gunshot.  She was still screaming.  The other man was yelling curses.  The gunshot reminded her there was another weapon in play, and she turned, trying to put the man who was still attached to the other end of her knife between herself and the one with the gun.

Her shoulder was burning–had the bullet hit or grazed her?

No time to figure out.  A thick fingered hand had grabbed the shoulder of the other guy and was shoving him out of the way to get to her.

“No!”

That was her, and as soon as she saw the portly man’s face, her free hand shot out, the heel of her palm smashing into his nose with all the force she could manage in close corners.

“Fuck–bitch!” the man screamed, eyes squeezing shut as he swung the gun around blindly.  He was going to try and shoot her again, blind this time.

He was blocking her way out of the kitchen.  She’d lost track of the knife–it had slipped out of her grasp when he pushed the other guy out of the way.

Cecilia grabbed the man’s arm as it swung close to her, ducking her head in and allowing her teeth to close around his wrist as she bit down hard, warm copper taste quickly flooding her mouth before he jerked his hand away, the gun going flying across the room with the knee-jerk response.

Of course, he was quick to backhand her across the face with enough force to send her to the ground, dazing her momentarily.  She was on her elbows and knees on the ground, he was behind her–

Cecilia pushed against the ground, sliding herself back towards the living room.  When her feet bumped into his legs, she rolled over onto her back, lashing out with her feet to kick him in the groin and off to the side.  As he staggered back she pushed herself to her feet, attempting to rush past him, hopefully for the front door.

She didn’t get far, as he grabbed her hair as she passed, yanking her back towards him as he clamped an arm around her neck.  Cecilia’s hand immediately reached out to grab  his arm as he pulled her back off her feet and towards the kitchen, trying to swing her around back towards the gun.  As he inevitably came back down–as it was extremely difficult to hold a struggling person off the ground for an extended amount of time–Cecilia pitched all of her weight forward with the momentum, pulling his arm and dropping her shoulder so he pitched forward, slamming into the ground without her having to support his weight.

He was in between her and the door.

Her bathroom had a lock.

Cecilia staggered towards the corner, trying to get to her bedroom door.  Her remaining attacker reached out and grabbed her ankle, pitching her forward to the floor, where she slammed her head, and she felt something pop and pull in her arm as she tried and failed to catch herself on the back of her couch.

Screaming again, Cecilia flipped onto her side and threw her other hand out to catch the doorframe, trying to pull herself the other way as he attacker tried to pull her back towards him  She shook and twisted her legs, eventually managing to kick off her flat and send it into his face, his flinch enough of her opening for her to pull herself free from his grasp as she pulled herself towards her bedroom door with all her strength.

She almost hit her head on the opposite side of the doorframe as she shot forward, but she ducked and bent forward so that she cleared the doorway and made it into the bedroom.

_Up, up, up!_

She screamed it in her head as she rushed to get her feet underneath her again, still inching towards her bed, around the corner, there was the bathroom door–

“Get back here, cunt!” 

She wasn’t even entirely on her feet, she kept stumbling, having to catch herself and drag herself forward, but she fell through into the bathroom as soon as the door slid open, rolling over and kicking the lock order for her door with her bare foot.

She heard a fist slam against the surface of the door, and a sob broke through.

She’d officially trapped herself.  Did anyone know she was in danger?  Neighbors?

Phone.

She hadn’t had the chance to take out her phone, she still had it.  Maybe.

Cecilia found her pone in the pocket of her jeans, desperate tears blurring her vision as she saw the surface lacerated with cracks and breaks.

The sound of the pounding paused.  Maybe he’d gone away?  Maybe he’d realized he couldn’t get to her in here?

Her phone turned on, the lock screen a warped display behind the damage.  Would the touch screen even work?

She tried to swipe the phone option from the lock screen, but blood smeared across the surface, her fingers stinging.

Gunshots again, flying through the room blindly.

He was firing into the room–busting the panel would only get her stuck in here.  Though perhaps he’d already shot it.

She screamed, laid flat on the floor, rolled away from where she’d been sitting just in case he fired in the direction of her scream, and wiped her phone off on her shirt before trying again with a fresh finger each time to open the phone.

Four fingers bleeding, six…nine…

The dial screen appeared.  more bloody marks were left on the phone as she repeatedly pressed the buttons, trying to find a patch of the touch screen that still worked around both keys.

She just needed three goddamn numbers, why wouldn’t her phone work with her?  Why did it have to be smashed?

The gunshots had stopped–maybe his clip was empty–but now he was pounding, no, slamming against the door.  He was going to try and bust it down.

_BANG!_

She screamed, the bullet smashed the glass of her shower.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

Cecilia fell forwards onto her hands as the calm android voice responded, wanting to avoid any more possible bullets.

“Cecilia Man–Manfred.  I’m in my apartment, and–”

Another shot rang out.

“God, _HELP ME!_ ”

Another shot, this one managing by an unlucky miracle to hit the phone in her hand.

She hadn’t been able to give her address.

More slamming into the door, which was now perforated with bullet holes.  It wasn’t going to hold.  Not long enough for her call to be traced and a first responder to arrive.

Another bullet pierced into the room.

Cecilia scrambled over to the sink, holding her wrist to her chest before her elbow jutted out and smashed her mirror.  Glass shards rained down into the sink, and she grabbed the biggest shard she saw.

* * *

_*Connor’s POV*_

A tense silence had fallen between Connor and Lieutenant Anderson after the failed highway pursuit.  Connor was still trying to figure out why Lieutenant Anderson had insisted Connor not chase after the deviant, especially since the deviant had made it to the other side, as Hank had insisted wouldn’t happen.

Connor shouldn’t have taken the chance.  He should have chased after the deviant.

Why had Hank stopped him?

Connor hadn’t yet had the chance to ask his question, as they had just finished up wrapping up with all the technical parts of what had happened, and they hadn’t even been in Hank’s car for five minutes yet.

Connor’s systems registered a development, surprisingly in Cecilia’s case.  He received updates on anything the DPD received regarding their cases, and considering Cecilia was listed as a person of interest in their investigation, anything involving her he would receive.

In this moment, that update was in the form of a just received 911 call.

_Software Instability._

“Shit.”

The sharp, sudden curse from the android instantly caught Lieutenant Anderson’s attention, his head turning to look at Connor despite the fact he was driving.  “What? What is–”

“Cecilia Manfred just called 911 from her apartment.  There were gunshots before the call was cut.”  Connor’s LED was flashing yellow, and Hank instantly tensed at the news.

“Well, did you get an address?”

“They don’t get one–but I was just there this morning.”

The car did a reckless U-turn that had several horns honking after them before Hank flipped on the siren.

* * *

The apartment was silent when they stepped through the front door.  However, it didn’t take long for either of them to see the signs of a struggle.  By the time Hank was cautiously stepping into the apartment to sweep the rooms, however, Connor was already analyzing and reconstructing.

It started right here where they were standing in front of the doorway.  Considering she didn’t just turn right back around and head out the door, there must have been a gun.  The salt and pepper shakers that had been sitting on the island counter earlier were missing, knocked over perhaps by Cecilia jumping over the counter?

Hank warily made his way towards the bedroom, pausing as he saw the body the same time Connor did.

_Fred Henders.  Age 27.  Drug Dealer and user.  Deceased._

There was a lot of blood in the kitchen…

One of the kitchen drawers was open, with a blood trail starting from within the knife basket in the drawer and continuing towards the bedroom.  There was a knife buried in Fred Henders’ neck, so it must have been Cecilia who grabbed the knife after jumping over the island to defend herself.  She’d cut herself in the process, but had attacked nonetheless.  Connor reached out and dabbed at the blood in the drawer with his fingers, confirming his suspicion that it was Cecilia’s B+ blood and allowing him to distinguish her blood from the rest on sight.

A blood trail all the way to Fred Henders’ body, a small spray on the dining chairs and walls–miraculously missing that painting–and some traces on the knife sticking out of Henders’ neck.  Connor didn’t have to get close enough to confirm it was her fingerprints, it was already obvious she’d killed him.  There were two stab wounds on the deceased, the obvious from his neck that had caused a spray and then pool of blood in the kitchen, and another one in his gut, the first blow.  There were two bullet holes in the kitchen walls, one over the counter, the other just above the body–both fired at Cecilia, then.

Hank had almost reached the bedroom door.

Connor skipped examining Henders–he could do that later.  instead he followed the blood trail Cecilia left, noticing there was some blood along the way that wasn’t hers.  Behind Hank’s back, Connor knelt just long enough to take a quick sample.

_Eli Bolton.  Age 33.  Drug Dealer._

These drips were small, but still left a small trail to follow, indicating Cecilia had managed to injure her other attacker as well.  Judging by where the trail started, she drew blood not long after killing Henders–small wounds, but enough to get past Bolton.

Initially.  There was a clear trail of blood leaving the kitchen, mostly in the form of handprints, but also smears–though considering the unidentified blood mixed in with Cecilia’s and Bolton’s, it was probably Henders’ blood that Cecilia had gotten on herself while attacking him.

Cecilia had tried to run, but Bolton had pulled her to the ground–whatever her attack had been had resulted in him being on the ground.  She tried to catch herself on the couch–evident by the bloody handprint–but had fallen anyway.  Injuring herself in the process, based on the trajectory.  A dislocated arm, perhaps?  She’d reached for her doorframe, and managed to get free of Bolton’s hold, her discarded flat still lying on the floor, lost in the struggle.

“This is all Cecilia’s blood–but some of it is her second attacker’s,” Connor informed hank softly as they finally reached the bedroom.  The blood was harder to see for the human eye here, as the décor switched from the light colored crisp cleanliness of Cecilia’s apartment to the cozy dark colors of her bedroom.  Connor could still see it, and he could see that Cecilia had been unable to get back on her feet, partially crawling towards the bathroom.  “She retreated to the bathroom,” Connor added softly, following close behind Hank as the Lieutenant adjusted his course to head right for the bathroom at Connor’s prompting.

The silence was foreboding, and Connor felt his thirium pump quicken as they cautiously approached, systems feeling a little cooler than normal on the inside, his mind presenting to him a high probability that they were going to find Cecilia dead in the bathroom.

_Software Instability._

He did his best to ignore the statistic, focusing on the present in case some unknown element caused things to go sideways.

The door was busted in, light pouring in from the silent bathroom–a room he hadn’t seen when he’d been here.  Hank stepped around the corner, gun up and ready in case Bolton was inside, Connor close behind and peering around the Lieutenant’s shoulder–

“Jesus…Christ…”  Hank muttered, lowering the gun.

Off to the right was a shattered shower, a bullet hole in the black tile wall to show what had caused the break.  On their left was a broken mirror, the shards no doubt in the sink it was placed above.  Lying in the shattered glass of the shower and a large pool of blood was Eli Bolton, a gun knocked into the far corner just out of his reach, a shard of glass sticking out of his chest, which had a small collection of stab wounds to show it had taken a few tries to bring him down.  A destroyed phone was lying near the toilet closer to the door on the right, surrounded by a light spattering of blood.  A slightly larger trail of smeared and shed blood led back to the sink, was left on a cabinet door, and then tracked to the large corner whirlpool bathtub, inside of which…

“You’re late.”

_Software Instability._

Cecilia’s words were croaked, her voice hoarse, most likely from screaming or shouting.  She was staring straight ahead, eyes unfocused, though it was a good sign she’d acknowledged their presence.  She had a bloodstained towel wrapped around a hand and pressed against her shoulder, her other hand holding it in place, blood dripping down scratches on her face, a bruise forming on her cheek, the cut on her head from last night reopened and dribbling blood, discoloration and a slight raise of skin showing she’d hit her head, a split lip, a dislocated shoulder, bruising around her ankle, and blood all over her–a mix of her own, Bolton’s, and Henders’–causing her shirt to stick to her body, and making it hard to detect other injuries.

Connor slipped inside around the momentarily stunned Lieutenant, deducing by the wild look in Cecilia’s eyes that she was about to have a breakdown as she’d had at her father’s house.  Maybe not the same breakdown, but a breakdown nonetheless.

Connor carefully got into the tub with her, lowering himself down to a crouch at her side before gingerly touching her shoulder.  He was close enough to see the cuts on her fingertips, her sliced elbow, a tangle of hair indicating she’d been grabbed by it at some point…a shake in her hands…a low and rapid pace to her breathing…

“Cecilia…it’s over,” Connor said slowly.  “They’re dead, and you need medical attention.  May I examine your wounds?”

Cecilia blinked, looking over at Connor in surprise as if she was just then registering he was there.  She pulled the towel away from her shoulder, offering it to him silently.  Connor took it from her, gently turning over her hand and letting his hands gently trace over her bloody injuries.

_Software Instability._

There was the cut from the knife–deep with how hard she’d grasped the blade–and small cuts across almost all of her fingers consistent with the shattered glass of her phone.  There was a bullet wound on her shoulder–it hadn’t gone through, but it had come close enough to rip open the skin and muscle of her shoulder a few millimeters deep.  His fingers brushed against her dislocated shoulder, tilting her head by the chin to examine injuries to her head and face, every motion gentle and careful.  There were bruises beginning to form on her arms as well, and he suspected there would be some on her sides from the fight and all the falls she must have taken.  There was severe discoloration forming around her neck, recent, showing Bolton managed to get his hands around her throat at some point.  There was some dampness at the back of her head, not enough to be considered a serious injury or at least needing immediate care, but enough to note--

Wait…

The burgundy of her shirt made it easy to miss, but she was bleeding from the outer part of her hip–she’d been stabbed by a shard of glass, most likely in the final struggle.  Connor folded up the towel she’d been using and put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding.

Connor’s programming told him to investigate, to question, to seek out answers to find out what happened here while Hank handled the human part of consoling the victim.  But one look at Cecilia, and the fact that he was familiar to her and had already helped her through one breakdown, told him otherwise.

It told him she needed comfort, right now.  A companion.  Not a detective.

 _Software Instability_.

Connor gently put his arm around the injured woman, his hand resting on her back while he continued to put pressure on her thigh wound.  While he was busy searching for the right platitude to offer her, Cecilia suddenly turned and leaned against Connor gingerly, mindful of her wounds and wincing when she brushed against one of them.

_Software Instability._

Finally, he settled on something to say.

“It’s over.  You’re with me now.  You’re safe.”


	7. Arrangements

_*Connor’s POV*_

Hank called the DPD to get the crime scene properly analyzed, Connor ushering Cecilia out of the apartment and waiting for Hank to finish his phone call before he went back into the apartment to properly analyze the entire crime scene while Hank took over sitting with Cecilia.  Connor didn’t rush, taking the time to scope out every inch and reconstruct what had happened in its entirety, to identify whose blood was where, who’d been hurt when.

One thing this incident told him, Cecilia Manfred was resourceful even in a panic.  She’d brought a knife and then a shard of glass into an equation with a man stronger than her and armed with a gun, and still came out the only one alive.  She had been seriously injured, of course, but she was _alive_.  They weren’t.

If he could feel, he would say he was…proud.  That was the word he was looking for.  Proud or impressed.

Once there were other officers to take care of a scene and Connor had filed an official report detailing what he was able to reconstruct and analyze, Hank and Connor promptly brought Cecilia to the emergency room.  It was mostly stitches she was in need of–lots of stitches–and some bandaging.  Though Connor was also aware that with her dislocated shoulder, she would need to wear a sling or brace during her recovery period.

Getting her into the car was a little difficult, since she was injured in so many different places it was almost impossible not to bump against this cut or bruise or whatever along the way.  Some he’d missed initially, like the cuts on her knees, elbows, and other hand from crawling across the shattered glass in the bathroom during the fight, or the dried blood where her hair had been pulled.  She probably had bruising in places he couldn’t see, like her back or midsection.  Connor ended up staying in the back with her, not a word spoken between the two of them in this entire time–though Connor had noticed she hadn’t released her fragile hold on him since he’d helped her out of the tub.  He could feel her blood slowly soaking into his jacket, but didn’t say a word.  Hank didn’t even make any comments about getting blood all over his car.

Halfway there, Cecilia shifted from her stiff position sitting up to lean over, resting her head on Connor’s shoulder with a soft sigh, her grip on his arm loosening slightly.  Connor didn’t move, attempting for several long moments to analyze the situation and figure out if she was seeking comfort from him.  He was familiar, and sitting right next to her, and had helped her through one trauma already.

Mindful of her many injuries, Connor put an arm around her to support her while she leaned against him, his other hand adjusting his grip on her forearm to rest the limb against her abdomen.  Once he’d finished adjusting the two of them into a more comforting position, she shifted closer, resting her head where his shoulder met his neck.

_Software Instability._

Connor squinted slightly at the pop-up in his vision.  It was appearing a little too often for his liking.  He might have to file a report…

He saw the Lieutenant glance at them a few times in the rearview mirror, but again, nothing was said until they reached the emergency room.

“I’m gonna call Jeffrey, figure out how we’re gonna handle all this.  You get her taken care of,” Hank told Connor, already stepping away with his phone while Connor led Cecilia into the ER and handed her off to the staff to be taken care of.

Her fingers clung to his jacket for a few split seconds before she was led away.

knowing now he had to wait and see what would happen, Connor headed back towards the Lieutenant, listening quietly to the conversation a few steps away while Hank paced.

“I’ve already got to make sure the android doesn’t get blown away, now you want to add an injured reporter I have to babtsit to the mix?”

_“It’s only temporary.  We don’t have anyone available for protective detail yet, and she’s your person of interest, so until arrangements are made, she’ll stay with you and the android.  Once we have someone we can assign to her, we’ll put her in a hotel until the crime scene’s done processing and she can go home.  Then she’ll be out of your hair.”_

“Goddammit Jeffrey, I don’t have time for this–”

_“Do you think I give a shit, Hank?  Make time.”_

Click.

That wasn’t going to do anything to improve the Lieutenant’s mood.

Hank turned around, catching Connor watching him with a neutral expression.  “You catch all that?” Hank asked.

Connor inclined his head.  “I’m sure she won’t be an impediment on our investigation, Lieutenant.  She’s been through a lot–she may be perfectly content with resting in the back seat while we do our jobs,” Connor said diplomatically.  “It would also give us the opportunity to sit down and talk to her about deviants–”

“–you’re not gonna interrogate that poor girl right now–”

“– _when she feels better_ ,” Connor finished as if Hank hadn’t interrupted him.  “Right now, her health is priority.”

There was that instability warning again, in its designated spot at the corner of his vision.

Hank leaned back, appraising Connor closely for a few moments.  “Well, would you look at that–you actually got the priorities in the right order,” he hummed.  Before Connor could ask what Hank meant, he continued.  “Welp, we’re gonna be here a while, Connor–can’t go anywhere without her.  You might as well get comfortable.”

* * *

It was almost an hour before Cecilia emerged, accompanied by a standard issue android nurse.  The most obvious thing was her brace–Connor assumed Cecilia had chosen it over a sling, as it allowed her some more mobility.  The brace fit like a grey mid-arm sleeve on her left arm, two straps securing it firmly to her arm without risking chaffing, a strap crossing her upper chest to attach to a soft clip that attached it to two other straps around her opposite shoulder to hold the brace tightly to her body and support the dislocated shoulder.  One of the opposite straps went over her uninjured shoulder and across her shoulder blades while the other dipped low under her arm and attached to a final strap around her midsection.  The sleeve and the two opposite shoulder straps were also connected by a soft clip in the back.

The fingernail scratches on her face had been cleaned and were now shallow thin wounds that would heal quickly, her head injury she’d had before the attack was re-stitched, the bruise across her face starting to show up a nasty greenish purple while the one around her neck was only a motley purple and brown.  Her opposite shoulder sported a bandage on her shoulder under the rip in her blouse, she walked stiffly and with a slight limp–the perpetrators most likely her sliced knees and bruised ankle.  There was another bandage at her hip where she’d been stabbed, and her hands seemed to have been mummified–with wraps across the cuts on the insides of her hands and coverings on her fingertips.  The nurse was also careful not to touch her elbows, which meant there was more bandages or wrappings of some sort underneath the sleeve of her shirt.

“RK800.  Lieutenant Hank Anderson.  Ms. Manfred is to be released into your custody, correct?”

“That’s what I’ve been told,” Hank said with a grunt, getting up from his seat in the chair.

“There are some home care instructions that–” the android started to tell Hank, but he promptly waved her off.

“Don’t tell me, I’ll probably forget it before we walk out the door.  Tell her guardian android over here,” Hank instructed, jabbing a thumb towards Connor.  Connor’s brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to question the Lieutenant’s choice of words before the medical android launched into explaining Cecilia’s care to Connor.

Pain meds, changing the bandages regularly, making sure none of the stitches reopen from strenuous activity, lots of rest.  It was the shoulder that was going to take the longest to recover, roughly two weeks.  Some injuries would be fine tomorrow, others the eighth–some injuries just needed time, others just needed to be clean and kept from being agitated for a bit while the medication, treatments, and nature did it’s job.

“She also didn’t speak the entire time during her treatment, so you may want to be prepared for whenever today’s events catch up with her.  Until then, be patient, gentle, and let her get plenty of rest,” the android finished, handing Connor Cecilia’s medication.  “Her doses are every twelve hours, she’s already had the first, though if she’s already asleep when its time and she’s not showing any discomfort, let her sleep this once so we can try to get her on a normal timetable.”

“You got all that, Connor?” Hank asked once it was clear the nurse had finished.

“Got it, Lieutenant.”

“Good, cause I caught almost none of it,” Hank said with a sigh.  “C’mon, let’s get out of here–there’s gonna be a shit-ton of paperwork and processing at the precinct, and I’d rather not be there all night.”

“She needs a change of clothes, Lieutenant,” Connor added, once again taking Cecilia gently by the forearm to act as a guide and support.  She was far more responsive this time, that faraway look no longer glazing over her eyes as she leaned into the contact.  She looked far more present than she’d been back at her apartment.  Hank spoke before she had any chance to break her silence, though.

“We’ll get them on the way back,” Hank replied with a shrug.  “She’ll have to change at the precinct or wait until tonight.”

“That’s fine,” Cecilia suddenly spoke up, surprising both of them.  Her voice was soft and careful.  “I mean, I can change at the precinct, I won’t mind.”

“All right then, sweetheart,”  Hank said with a nod, his voice a tad gentler this time as he ushered them towards the exit.  “The sooner we get this part over with, the better for all of us.  C’mon, out to the car, lets go.”

* * *

_*Cecilia’s POV*_

“Do you require assistance, Cecilia?”

Cecilia turned at Connor’s question, the clothes that had been retrieved from her apartment held in a wad in the hand of her slightly better arm.  She was halfway to the women’s restroom, the regular bustle of the DPD precinct continuing uninterrupted around her, hardly anyone sparing her a glance.

It was just another day for them.  An uninterrupted nightmare for her.

She wanted to say no–fall back on her usual self-dependency and say that she could manage, she’d be fine.  But her hands were mummified, she was in a brace, and while her pain meds had numbed the feel of her many cuts and bruises and injuries, she was still stiff, and her movements ginger.

“Yes, please,” she admitted, albeit reluctantly and with a growing blush.  It hadn’t even been twelve hours and Connor was already going to be getting her undressed again.

_And I’m going to stop that train of thought right there…_

So long as she didn’t think about it and kept herself distracted, it probably wouldn’t be that awkward.

Connor was by her side not long after she’d accepted his help, taking the clothes out of her hands and walking with her to the women’s restroom.  After a quick check to see if anyone else was in the restroom, Connor went over to the door, the skin of his hand dissolving away to reveal the pure white beneath as he interfaced with the door, most likely to make sure nobody walked in on them.  Cecilia couldn’t help but stare for a few seconds at the rare sight–at least rare for her.  She was well aware that androids weren’t made of flesh and bone, but she’d never seen an android without the synthesized skin in person before.

Connor turned to face her once again, the skin bleeding back over the white and snapping Cecilia out of her momentary trance as he approached.

Time to try and initiate some small talk to keep her mind off of the present.

“Am I going to have to give another written statement?” Cecilia asked, moving her arms out to the sides as Connor started to undo the straps of her brace, one hand resting on the forearm of her injured shoulder to keep her from moving it too much in the process.

“Yes, but I can write it down for you.”  Connor carefully slid the sleeve of her brace off, setting it aside on the sink.  Cecilia did her best not to blush as he gripped the edges of her shirt, lifting one arm up over her head while the other he lifted but stopped just short of causing any pain.  He held her gaze with an expression of complete calm as he pulled the shirt up over her head, making sure the sleeves didn’t catch on any of her bandages.  “You can tell me what happened, and we’ll be able to get the written and verbal statement out of the way at the same time.”

Connor set her destroyed blouse aside, picking up a black turtleneck from her bundle of clean clothes.  Cecilia did her best not to instinctually try to cover herself up.

“How are you feeling?” Connor asked casually, still keeping his gaze above the neck as he carefully pulled the turtleneck over her head, letting the garment rest for a moment on her shoulders as he gently gathered her hair in his hand to pull it free of the shirt, his fingers brushing against the back of her neck, causing goosebumps to rise across her skin.

_What made me think this wasn’t going to be flustering, again?_

“The pain meds are working–I don’t really feel any of it right now,” Cecilia answered, doing her best to make dressing her easier and putting her working arm through the sleeve while Connor carefully tended to the other one.

“While your physical health is important, I was referring to your mental and emotional state,” Connor corrected, smoothing down the turtleneck now that all the right limbs had gone through all the right holes.  They both paused as Connor helped Cecilia sit up on the sink counter so he could slide her pants off with ease.

She might have been having issues with gutter thoughts if it hadn’t been for his perfectly timed question.  Maybe that had been the point, besides asking after her wellbeing.

“You were just attacked by and then killed two men–you’re not in shock, but that does not mean you’re all right, either,” Connor continued, watching her closely as he set her brown dress pants aside, probably looking for the slightest facial tic to give away how she really felt if she tried to lie or downplay how she felt.

“I’m…” Cecilia hesitated, her mind flashing images of red, phantom pain from the moment her injuries were inflicted, shattered glass, dying eyes…

Connor paused in what he was doing when she hesitated, her slim black sweats held loose in his hands.

“I’m tired,” she admitted.  And she was.  the world0weary kind of tired.  She’d seen a lot in a short amount of time, and perhaps the reason she hadn’t reacted yet was because she was too worn, she lacked the energy to properly respond to recent events.  Perhaps she was still in a bit of shock, as well.  Maybe she was going through a form of denial.

No, it wasn’t denial.  She killed two men, she was well aware.  One it had happened so fast she didn’t have a picture of his face, or had even registered she’d struck a fatal blow in the moment.  It was only looking back she realized she’d killed him.  Though the other, she’d been atop him, she’d been looking down on him as the life left him.  That one she’d had plenty of time to process before Hank and Connor arrived.

What bothered her wasn’t killing them, but the fact that she had yet to feel anything over killing them.  Perhaps it was just a delayed reaction, or…

“I’m alive.  Isn’t that what matters?” she asked, though the question was rhetorical.  “I’m alive, and they’re not.  If I hadn’t killed them, they likely would have killed me.  Or worse.”

…Or had she been raised a realist, seen enough of the world to know the facts and to avoid the survivor’s guilt.  Knowing that it had been the people attacking her or her, did that make this easier?  The fact that she’d been defending herself, fighting for her survival, was that what eased the shock?  She’d had time to accept the situation, plenty of time in her own head.  It was still a serious matter, taking another life–much less, two.    But she’d been afraid, and cornered, and her life had been in danger.  She’d fought back.  She’d won.  She’d survived.

“I’m glad to be alive,” she finished, looking up to meet Connor’s eyes.  His LED was flickering yellow as he processed her answer, then nodded, resuming his task of helping her get changed and slipping the sweats on her.

“It doesn’t bother you, then?” Connor asked.

“Not yet.”  Cecilia paused as he helped her off the counter.  “Maybe it will sink in and I’ll come to terms with the full weight of what happened, but right now…I know it was me or them, and they weren’t good people, they attacked me.  I had every right to fight back, to live.  Don’t we all?”

Connor hesitated just slightly, his movements a touch slower as he reached for the light grey cardigan on the counter.  “You’re including androids in that statement?”

Cecilia sighed, looking away.  “I know you don’t agree, but…I can’t help but wonder, if Markus had fought back, would things have been different?  Better, maybe?  If he’d fought back from the start would he still have been killed, could we have avoided the stress that killed my dad, just…”

Cecilia shook her head, cutting off her what ifs.  “It doesn’t pay to think in what ifs, though, does it?  Can’t change the past…just the future…” Cecilia murmured.

Draping the cardigan over his arm, Connor picked up the brace, starting to put it back on Cecilia starting with the sleeve, which fit comfortably over the smooth nylon of her turtleneck.  A brief silence settled between them–which Cecilia didn’t mind, now that they were past the awkward part for her–until Connor came to the final strap on her brace, the one that went around her midsection.

“You have bruises on your back and around your midsection–is the strap uncomfortable?” he inquired, securing the strap in place but not yet tightening it.

“The strap helps far more than it hurts–and the bruises will stop hurting sooner than my shoulder will stop needing the brace,” Cecilia reasoned.  Connor took a moment, apparently debating something before he finally tightened the strap just shy of becoming uncomfortable against her bruises.  Once her brace was secure he slipped the cardigan off his arm, draping it around her shoulders and allowing her to put the unbraced arm through before assisting with the braced arm.  Cecilia pulled the cardigan tightly around herself, reveling in the warmth that it provided.  And it covered quite a bit of her, the ends coming to a point and brushing against her knees.

“There.”  Connor gathered up her ruined clothes, folding them neatly despite the fact she had every intention of giving up and throwing them away.  They were soaked in blood and cut and ripped up, it would be less of a hassle.  Then again, she hadn’t exactly informed him that she was just going to toss the clothes into the garbage.  “If you believe you’re ready, I can take your official statement now.”

Cecilia nodded.  “Best to get it while it’s fresh.”

Connor inclined his head at her phrasing, and Cecilia had to smother a small smile, though he still took the confirmation, leading her out of the bathroom and across the hall to the interrogation rooms.  “Wait in here–I’ll be with you in a moment.”

* * *

The slap of a file hitting the desk made Cecilia jump, though Connor, as always, was unfazed by the sudden sound.  Cecilia, Connor, and Lieutenant Anderson had been sitting at the same desks for quite some time, now, silence between all of them while Hank and Connor looked at case files and sorted through paperwork and evidence, and Cecilia tried not to lose her mind to boredom.

Hank shoved away from his desk and pushed to his feet.  “That’s it–I need a break, and I need something to eat.”  He looked over at Cecilia.  “What about you, kid–you hungry?”

Her nod might have been a little too enthusiastic as she got to her feet.  “I haven’t ate since yesterday afternoon.  I was going to grab something on my way home after my father’s retrospective, but…”

Hank stared at her in almost offended surprise.  “Shit–you should’ve said something.  We coulda gotten out of here a hell of a lot sooner.  C’mon, I know the perfect place.”

* * *

Of course it started raining by the time Hank slowed to a stop in front of a food truck–it was November in Detroit.  The only thing that surprised her was she hadn’t seen a snowfall yet.

Though according to the weather channel in the police station there would finally be a snowfall tonight.

“You stay here.  As for you: get ready to run,” Hank first told Connor, then Cecilia as she scooted to Hank’s side of the car in the back seat, Connor watching them with mild curiosity as they both opened their doors and started a mad dash across the street.  Cecilia was amused to see her pace was a little faster than Hank’s, though he might have been slowing because she was hurt.

Plus he had to stop a car from running into him–that probably slowed him down considerably.

Still, Cecilia took the extra time to stand under the awning and look through the menu, trying to figure out what she wanted while Hank spoke to someone, tuning out his words.

Until, of course, he was calling for her attention.

“Cecilia!” he finally said, loud enough to catch her attention.  Once she’d hummed in acknowledgement and was looking at him, he spoke again.  “What do you want?”

She almost bit on her lip before she remembered she’d split it and doing so would hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.  “Right, ah…the lemonade.  And…the greasiest cheeseburger you can give me.  No onions.”

“Not bad,” Hank hummed in approval.  “You heard the lady, Gary.  It’s gotta be at least a double, she hasn’t ate in a while.”

Cecilia instinctively reached for her wallet.

“No, no, no, I’ve got you covered, kid, this one’s on me,” Hank waved her off.  Normally she would protest, but she’d also realized her wallet was at her apartment.  So instead she just sheepishly lowered her hands.

Hank, meanwhile, glanced over his shoulder as Connor all but materialized next to him, sighing heavily.  “What is your problem?  Don’t you ever do as you’re told?”  Hank asked in exasperation.  “Look, you don’t have to follow me around like a poodle!”

Connor looked away, his LED flashing lazily as he seemed to decide the best approach.  Eventually he leaned over to speak.  “I’m sorry for my behavior back at the police station.  I didn’t mean to be unpleasant.”

Behavior?  Surely he didn’t mean just now?  They hadn’t even spoken since they’d brought Cecilia to the precinct.  Maybe he meant earlier, at some point when she hadn’t been around them?

“Oh wow…you’ve even got a brown nosing apology program!”  Hank said with a shake of his head.  “Guys at Cyberlife thought of everything, huh?”

Connor didn’t answer, and Hank didn’t bother to continue the conversation.  A few moments later, the stand owner–Gary–turned around with a soda and hamburger carton in hand, handing them both over to Hank.  “Here you go.”

“Thanks, Gary!” Hank returned, lifting the soda in a ‘cheers’ motion.  Gary turned around, and a few second later turned around with another carton and drink, a few napkins tucked under the carton.

“And I’ve got yours right here, doll,” he said with a smile as he handed the food to her with care.  Her fingers were awkward with the bandages, but she managed to hold it all on her own.  As she started for the table Hank was standing at, Gary gestured to Connor, who had been standing just behind Cecilia and was watching her closely.  “Hey, don’t leave that thing here,” he called to Hank.

“Not a chance!  Follows me everywhere,” Hank called back.  Connor started making his way over to them a few seconds later, as if to emphasize his point.  “See?”

Since Cecilia was still figuring out how she was going to eat a greasy hamburger without ruining her bandages, she simply sipped on her lemonade for a few moments, watching as Connor leaned against the table, elbows propped up on its surface.

"I don’t want to alarm you, Lieutenant, but I think your friends are engaged in _illegal activities_ ,” Connor said, voice lowering like he was sharing a filthy secret.  Hank didn’t even flinch, which told her this wasn’t news to him.

“Well, everybody does what they have to, to get by.  As long as they’re not hurting anybody, I don’t bother ‘em,” Hank said with a simple shrug.  A relaxed cop, then–one who was willing to let the small things slide while he pursued the more serious things.

Connor tried again for small-talk.  “Your meal contains 1.4 times the recommended daily intake of calories and twice the cholesterol level,” he said, nodding towards the burger Hank held in his hand.  “You shouldn’t eat that.”

“Everybody’s gotta die of something,” Hank said a little dramatically before taking a large bite from the hamburger.

Connor’s gaze slid over to Cecilia, and she was quick to hold up a hand to stop him before he could comment on her own meal.  “Nope, don’t even–I’m allowing myself this.  If it makes you feel better, I’ll eat it with the napkins to avoid completely soiling my bandages,” she said pointedly, grabbing the napkins before popping open the carton to start in eagerly on the burger.

“Is there anything you’d like to know about me?” Connor asked Hank.  Cecilia was about to tune them out, eagerly plowing through her burger as if racing to finish the burger before the grease could get to her bandages.

“Hell no…well, yeah, um…”  Hank paused, probably figuring out how he wanted to phrase his question.  “Why did they make you look so goofy and give you that weird voice?”

Cecilia almost choked on her food at the question.

“Cyberlife androids are designed to work harmoniously with humans.  Both my appearance and voice were specifically designed to facilitate my integration.”

Ever the unfazed Connor.

“Well, they fucked up,” Hank answered with a sarcastic smile.  Cecilia shot him the evil eye, silently disagreeing as she properly swallowed her food this time.  Hank ignored her look with well-practiced ease.

Connor still looked a little loss.  The poor ma–android–was trying so hard to build some bridges between himself and the Lieutenant right now…and currently failing.

Endearingly, he kept trying.

“This morning, when we were chasing those deviants…why didn’t you want me to cross the highway?”

Wait, what?  Deviant chasing?  Crossing a highway?  That sounded like a story–what had she missed out on?

While Cecilia was trying to think up the scenario of what had happened, Hank seemed incredulous at Connor’s question.

“Cause you could’ve been killed!” he answered, like it was supposed to be obvious.  Then he seemed to realize what he just said and quickly backtracked.  “And I don’t like filling out paperwork for damaged equipment.”

_Too late, can’t unsay it.  Killed.  Not destroyed.  Whatever happened, you weren’t thinking of Connor as a machine at the time…curious.  Maybe I’m not the only one._

Connor was speaking again.

“Maybe I should tell you what we know about deviants?”

“You read my mind…Proceed,” Hank said with a slight twirl of his hand.

“We believe that a mutation occurs in the software of some androids, which can lead to them emulating a human emotion–”

“In English, please,” Hank interrupted.  It seemed Hank could tell Connor was going to involve a lot of technical terms and wanted to get ahead of it before Connor’s _explanation_ became too complex.

“They don’t really _feel_ emotions, they just get overwhelmed by irrational instructions.  Which can lead to unpredictable behavior.”

“Markus wasn’t given any irrational instructions,” Cecilia interrupted.

She couldn’t help it–Markus was being included in this category, being labeled as an unfeeling dysfunctional machine, and she didn’t like it.  And wasn’t their interest in her because of Markus?  The exception to the rule in so many different ways?

Or perhaps their definition was just wrong.  Being in the police force, they only saw the rotten side of deviancy, the ones who committed a crime with this humanity in them.  What about the androids like Markus?  The ones who didn’t commit a crime, who just existed?  Were they going to be marked as violent, too?  Were all the androids being charged with crimes actually in the wrong, or were they being categorized, or framed like Leo tried to do to Markus?

So many what ifs.  Her curiosity was growing with every new tidbit of information that came her way.  Maybe she wouldn’t be able to leave this alone.  She’d promised Connor she wouldn’t report on an ongoing investigation…but she could still do some investigating of her own.

Both Connor and Hank were looking at her.

‘You said your father told Markus to not do anything, correct?” Connor asked.  Cecilia inclined her head.  She had to give him that one, but that didn’t mean he won this debate so soon, either.

“Yes, but it didn’t _overwhelm_ him.  Markus did just that, as much as he didn’t want to.  He stood there and took it, every insult and hit Leo threw at him.  His reaction didn’t have anything to do with instructions, his reaction and emotions showed when my dad fell out of his wheelchair, when he was dying–died.  There were no instructions involved to _overwhelm him_ into displaying grief and devastation over my father’s death.”

“Sounds like she has a point, Connor,” Hank quipped, studying Cecilia closely.

“Machines don’t feel,” Connor replied patiently.

“I’ve seen a machine emulate an emotion to suit their programming–quite well, too.  Markus wasn’t _emulating_ anything,” Cecilia returned calmly.  She wasn’t angry or offended–again, she knew Connor was simply following instructions, doing as he was told, carrying out his function.  He’d been told by his superiors what deviants were and that they were to be stopped.

Maybe one day the evidence would tell him differently.  Maybe he’d see enough to show him the assumption about deviants was wrong.

Maybe…

“But I digress,” Cecilia said gracefully.  “You’ve got what you’ve seen with the crimes DPD deals with for its job, seeing the worst of deviants like it sees the worst of humanity.  I’ve just got personal experience with an everyday deviant.  I suppose time will tell whose right.”

Cecilia threw her napkins into the now empty hamburger carton, turning away from the table to leave her statement hanging in the air.  There was a trashcan on the other side of the stand, and she did her best to stay under cover out of the rain–which she hoped slowed down soon.  She tossed the carton the last foot into the trashcan, flexing her fingers and staring down at her bandaged hand while she sipped mindlessly on the lemonade.

She wouldn’t be able to comfortably type for a little while.  There was always text to speech she could use, but she was always better writing, thinking out each word carefully, going back through and swapping this word for that, seeing how the words flowed together , able to feel whether it was right or wrong as her fingers pressed every key in a fluid motion.  If that fluidity was broken, either she’d made a typo, or she knew that the words didn’t go together.  Not if they didn’t flow.  And the keyboard was therapeutic, relaxing, a familiar action for her hands–it kept her moving.  She’d never been that good at sitting still when her mind was abuzz.  And most of the time, her hands wanted to be doing something.

Now her hands needed a rest.  Thankfully they weren’t damaged beyond repair, but they needed the break to heal, which meant she wouldn’t be able to do anything for a little while.

Cecilia paused.  Was that really what was bothering her out of all of this?  Not killing two men, but the slight inconvenience of not being able to use her hands as much as she normally did for a few…days, hours, however long it took for the little cuts on her fingertips to heal enough for her not to be bothered by any pain from them?

What kind of a person was she, that little cuts on her fingers and some sliced palms bothered her more then stabbing two men till the life drained out of them?

The lemonade suddenly tasted too sour, but she stood under the corner of the awning and finished it all the same before tossing it into the trash after her burger carton.

She willed her previous train of thought to go with it, turning her back on the thoughts and the trash to return to where Hank and Connor were still having their conversation.  Poor man had hardly ate his food because he kept having to answer Connor’s questions.

“…is an added challenge,” Connor was saying as Cecilia reached the table, earning a brief glance from Hank.  “But adapting to human unpredictability _is_ one of my features.”

Connor winked, the action so quick and subtle Cecilia almost missed it, but it still drew a small smile out of her to see such a human action come from the android who insisted androids were nothing more machines.

Connor’s eyelids fluttered, head twitching suddenly.  Before Cecilia could ask if he was all right, he answered her question of what just happened.

“I just got a report of a suspected deviant.  It‘s a few blocks away.  We should go have a look.”  Connor looked slowly down the road, his voice leading before his gaze snapped back to Hank and he leaned back from the table.  “I’ll let you finish your meal.  I’ll be in the car if you need me.”

“I think I’ll join you–I’m already done,” Cecilia piped up.  Connor paused just long enough for her to come even with him before they crossed the street together, leaving Hank to finish his meal in peace.  Connor beat Cecilia to the car by a single stride, opening the backseat for her before she could do it herself.  It also let her duck inside for cover from the rain instead of standing in one place to get drenched in rainwater while her bandaged hands fiddled with the door.

Connor shut the door behind her, and Cecilia gathered her cardigan from where she’d left it on the seat–some foresight on her part, now she had a warm coat to wrap around herself that wasn’t wet.  She was very carefully getting the other sleeve on around her brace when Connor slid into the passenger’s seat.

“You were trying to build a relationship with him–or at least get on good terms with him,” Cecilia stated once the door had snapped shut behind him.

Connor turned to face her, though Cecilia continued before he had the chance to answer or question her.  “You’re not the only one who observes their surroundings for understanding, you know,” she said simply.

Connor leaned back in his seat, looking at her in the rearview mirror.  “Lieutenant Anderson and I did not…start off on the right foot, so to speak.  I need him for my investigation, and his cooperation will make things easier.”

“May I offer you a bit of advice?” Cecilia asked, sliding into the middle of the back seat and leaning forward so her face came even with Connor’s shoulder.  the strap of her brace pressed into her bruise, but she muscled past the pain  Connor turned his head, looking at her over his shoulder in a silent sign for her to continue.

“I’ve never been on a police force–I don’t know anyone _in_ the force, either.  But from what I’ve seen and heard, and my own understanding of us complex humans…you’re only going to get so far with that social relation program Cyberlife gave you.  It helps sometimes, but to be honest, you suck at small talk.  I’m sure with time you’ll learn and adapt, but that’s a learning curve, and you need something to improve your relationship now.”

Cecilia glanced out the rainy car window in the direction Hank was sitting.  “You might be assigned to Hank, acting as a partner of sorts, but you’ve got to earn that–being his partner, I mean.  That’s going to take some trust building, especially out in the field.  Cops have a special relationship with each other, its a family of sorts, and partners have a special bond.”

Cecilia leaned forward a little more, making sure she could look Connor in the eyes.  “Now, I know your programming probably tells you that your mission comes before everything else, am I right?”  Cecilia waited for a nod of confirmation before continuing.  “It’s wrong.  Your _partner_ comes first–before the mission, or the guy you’re trying to catch, whatever, that partnership is priority.  Every time you put your mission over his–or the lives of other innocents, for that matter–you’re only going to hurt your relationship with him.  Drastically.  You could damage it irreparably if you’re not careful.  And like you said, you need him and his cooperation if you want to do your job.”

Cecilia nodded towards Hank.  “Give him a reason to trust you, show him he can trust you with his life.  If you have his back, he’ll watch yours.  Think of it like a…a brotherhood.  We few, we happy few, we band of brothers–for he that sheds his blood with me today is my brother.”

“Henry V.  Shakespeare,” Connor remarked, and Cecilia couldn’t help the small smile that flickered across her face.

“You caught me.  But the point is still there, don’t forget it.  There’s a sort of special trust between partners, so give him a reason to trust you, and put him first, before the mission.  It’ll make things much easier.”

“You and your half brother do not have this familial relationship.  And Hank was born into a human family while I was created in a factory,” Connor pointed out.  Cecilia had to resist rolling her eyes.  Of course he was going to get technical.

“Well, to quote another art form…Family don’t end with blood.  But it doesn’t start there either.  Family cares about you–not what you can do for them.  Family’s there, through the good, bad, all of it.  They’ve got your back even when it hurts.  That’s family.”  Cecilia shook her head.  “I’ve already told you Markus was more family than Leo ever was.  Whether it was programming or deviancy free will, he was there for me and my father.  Leo was only around when we could give him something he wanted–money, mostly–and he was quick to stab us in the back.  So… Just because you’re blood, doesn’t make you _family_.  But you don’t have to _be_ blood to be family.  Got it?”

Connor was silent for a few moments, and she was rather sure that just out of her view his LED was yellow as he processed the information  It was a lot to take in at once, and she had just told him to disregard his programming to achieve what his programing told him to do.

“I…understand what you’re saying, but–”

Cecilia gently placed her hand on his arm to halt what he’d been about to say.  “Just think about it.  Maybe try it for a while, see what happens.  Like I said…it’s advice.  Not an order.”

Cecilia leaned back with a sigh, resting her head on the back of the seat.  There were several beats of silence between them where the only sound in the car was that of the rain outside.

“You can try to get some sleep, if you like.  I would highly suggest it,” Connor said, prompting Cecilia to crack open an eye and look at him.  “You’ve been through a lot and haven’t had much sleep.  Plus the nurse said you needed plenty of rest.  We can’t take you with us to investigate, so you might as well take the time to rest.  I’ll make sure Lieutenant Anderson doesn’t play music at high volumes like he normally does.”

Cecilia smiled faintly, all too happy to stretch out as much as she could in the back seat, legs half curled towards her as she tried to use her elbow as a makeshift pillow.  “Thank you, Connor.  And good luck with Hank,” she murmured, letting her eyes close and the steady drum of the rain lull her towards an exhausted sleep.


End file.
